Deceptions
by Spense
Summary: Based on a single accusation, the Tracy family is caught up in a web of lies and halftruths, while trying to exonerate themselves and protect IR. NOTE: contains references to child abuse. Follows 'Who's in Trouble Now' and 'Hornet's Nest'.
1. Chapter 1

DECEPTIONS

By Spense

Disclaimer: I don't own, made no money, etc.

Movie-verse (but can be read either way)

Chapter One

Scott Tracy walked across the cold, snowy street, head down, moving quickly. Of all of the insane things he and his family have had to deal with, this one really took the prize. It was by far the worst in a long time, and frankly, made the least sense.

He lived an unbelievably wonderful life. Second in command of International Rescue. That was enough right there. He also lived a life of wealth and privilege as the son of Jefferson Tracy, billionaire ex-astronaut. He and his family were truly some of fortune's favored few. Things like this weren't suppose to happen to people like them. One would think his father's wealth could protect them from the sort of disaster forced upon them now, but no, it actually seemed to make them more of a target.

Scott pulled open the door of the typical state building. Drab, slightly run down, always short of funds. He felt out of place here in his expensive long wool coat and cashmere muffler. Both the long black coat and his dark Italian wool slacks were dotted with snow. He made his way to the desk, tapping his black leather gloved fingers against it absently as he requested directions to his destination.

The Christmas carols and bright festive lights were a jarring note to him, given what was going on. Christmas should have been a time of joy and laughter, as it usually was in the Tracy family. Hiding presents, and nosey brothers trying to find them. Lots of good food, and good company. But not this year. Scott's heart ached for all of them, but especially for his father. This situation was just tearing him apart.

Jefferson Tracy had been beside himself when he'd dispatched Scott on this errand. He was tied up with the cadre of high powered attorneys he had working on the problem. Scott was just grateful that Lady Penelope was there with his father. He wasn't sure he would have been able to leave him otherwise.

Scott reached the designated floor, all the while thinking of his father's haunted face. The accusation was absolutely ludicrous, but it still had just about destroyed his father when he had received the news. His father was a good man. He was a fair man as well. The charges leveled were patently impossible to anybody who knew Jefferson Tracy, but it would be tough to defend against them. An overzealous accuser, and they, particularly his father, were suddenly on trial, guilty until proven innocent.

The woman at the desk looked at him suspiciously as he gave his name. He thought for a moment that she was going to deny him access – she looked as though she wanted to. She eyed him again, taking in the richness of his clothing, the expensive leather gloves and shoes, and his unseasonable tan.

He wanted to shout at her not to believe appearances, that things were seldom as they first appeared. Reluctantly she got up to escort him the rest of the way. The calls from the attorneys had paved the way, and she had no choice, but she made it clear that she wasn't happy about it. Not one bit.

Scott bit his lip, thinking about his desperate father, aghast brothers, and the rest of the others at the island – all devastated. It had difficult for Scott to leave for this errand right now. He desperately wanted to come, no question there. He was alarmed to think about what he might find, but they all needed to know. He urgently needed to see where things stood, but he was just as worried about his father. Talk about a choice made in the farthest dark nether reaches. But this errand was just as important to his father right now. Jeff had insisted that Scott go, he'd felt it was far more critical than any support he himself needed at the moment. Thank heavens Penny had been there, so Scott hadn't had to make a choice. He had just been able to come, knowing Lady P had everything under control for the moment.

They stopped at a non-descript door – just like all the others along the hallway. Scott thanked the woman politely, flashing a hint of his devastating Tracy smile. She didn't thaw one bit. She knew what she believed. Turning on her heel, she left him at the door. Taking a deep breath to brace himself, he put his hand on the door knob. This was going to be painful, no doubt about it.

Scott quietly entered the small, dingy room. Over by the window, dejection in every line of his body, he could see his youngest brother, Alan. He was watching the snow, forehead leaning against the cold glass. Scott's heart went out to him. At the sound of the door closing shut, Alan came to life. His head whipped around, and there was a frozen instant where he took in his older brother. Then he was moving fast.

He slammed into Scott so hard that his older sibling lost his breath for a moment. Heedless of Scott's damp wool coat, still dotted with snow flakes, Alan clung tight, burying his face into his brother's shoulder.

"Well, that's quite a greeting," Scott commented lightly, his arms going around his little brother and squeezing him tight. The strength of his embrace belied the lightness of his words.

Alan's voice was muffled. "They said I had a visitor, but they didn't say who," he finished breathlessly, not moving an inch from Scott.

Scott closed his eyes for a moment. He'd been afraid of this. His father had been petrified about what Scott would find in the first place, and about the desolation he would leave after breaking the news. "Are you okay kiddo?" He asked softly to the top of Alan's head.

Alan nodded into his shoulder, holding desperately onto his big brother.

"Alan," he said gently, "I really need to know."

Alan gave a convulsive shudder and began to disengage himself. Scott made sure he kept an arm draped loosely over the boy's shoulder as he guided them to the chairs.

'Yeah," Alan said gloomily, "I'm just fine."

Yeah right, Scott thought. They were all just peachy right now. Scott reached out and tipped Alan's chin slightly so that the light reflected on his bruised and swollen cheekbone, eye and nose. He whistled softly through his teeth. "That is a beaut." Besides his eye, Alan's nose was still swollen and slightly crooked as well. "How bad does it hurt?"

Alan sighed, leaning in closer to Scott, loath to let him get too far away. "Tons," he sighed heavily. "Who knew Gordon could hit so hard."

Scott would have laughed had the situation not been so serious. Alan had been helping during a rescue over the Thanksgiving break as part of his training. His father had him on Thunderbird Two, observing, and helping direct 'traffic' when the survivors were loaded into the Thunderbird. A man had been going ballistic, seriously endangering the others as the platform was coming back into the pod. Gordon had moved to hit him and knock him out. Unfortunately, the man had ducked and Gordon had caught Alan a good one.

"And the ribs?" Alan had hit the side of the rescue platform pretty hard, bruising his side as well.

Alan shrugged. "They feel like bruised ribs. What else can I say." Before Scott could reply, Alan asked the question his brother had dreaded. "Is Dad here? Did they want to talk to him before he came in? Does this mean I get to go home now?"

Scott paused a moment before speaking, then broke the news bluntly. "No. They have a restraining order against Dad. He can't see you, speak to you, or come within 100 yards of you."

Alan looked up in shock. Scott was concerned at the paleness of his brother's face. " . . . what?"

Scott puffed his cheeks, and exhaled heavily. "I know. Ludicrous. But think about it from their point of view."

"But . . ." Alan tried to make sense of it.

Scott spelled it out for him. "Alan, the state has brought charges of child abuse against Dad. They haven't gotten an explanation for your black eye that they are comfortable with. And think about when you started the term this year. Broken collar bone, remember?" Scott could see Alan reading between the lines. Good thing the kid was quick.

They had no good explanation because they couldn't release the fact that they were International Rescue. Besides, Scott wasn't sure that would even help. How many people were going to look kindly at having a 15-year-old-kid anywhere near a Thunderbird anyway? Good grief, what a mess.

Scott could see Alan processing all of this without him having to say a word. Now was the time to get him to understand what he needed to do. "Alan, listen to me carefully. I need you to stay cool through all of this. No running away, no fights, no backtalk, nothing. Remember that anything you say or do will reflect directly on Dad. It's the hardest thing you'll ever do. You have to do NOTHING."

For Alan to do nothing was like telling the wind not to blow. But Scott needed him to understand the seriousness of the situation. "Dad is doing everything he can. He has Schaeffer Bradley and the rest of his attorneys working around the clock. But Alan, you have to know that the state wants to take you away from us. We have to be extremely careful right now. Please don't do anything to jeopardize our case. Please!"

Alan seemed to shrink into himself at Scott's words. His eyes were huge and horrified. "Scott . . . how can he . . ."

Scott knew what his little brother was trying to say. 'How were they going to get out of this one without telling about International Rescue.' But in Scott's opinion, SAYING anything about IR would just make the situation worse. "I don't know, Alan, but we're working on it. Just be very careful about what you say and do. I know it will be hard."

Alan hesitated, horror-stricken, then asked softly, "But I can talk to Dad on the wristcomm sometimes, right?"

Scott hated to destroy his little brother's hope. He slowly shook his head, detesting himself more every moment.

"But I'll only use it in an emergency," Alan argued desperately. "I promise!"

Scott seriously doubted that Alan could keep that promise. And even if he could, he KNEW his father couldn't. Jeff himself knew it, and had asked Scott to retrieve Alan's wristcomm, even while knowing how Alan would feel. The stakes were just too high to allow even one small misstep.

"I'm sorry, Al," Scott whispered, and gently reached out and unfastened the 'watch' from Alan's wrist. "What do you think would happen if someone found you talking into your watch? How would you explain that?" Scott tried to lighten the mood as he dropped the wristcomm into his coat pocket. "We don't need to have you committed for mental problems on top of everything else, do we?"

His attempt didn't work. Alan just ignored it as he stared at his older brother in absolute disbelief. "Scott, no . . .," he whispered anxiously, feeling like his last link from home was taken away from him.

Before Scott could say anything to ease his brother's mind, the door opened and the woman who had escorted Scott to the room looked in. Eyes cold, she looked at Scott and stated, "Time's up Mr. Tracy. You have to leave now."

Alan was just frozen, hardly comprehending what he'd just heard. He looked at Scott as his brother got up. Scott leaned down to hug him again. "Remember what I said, sprout. I love you, and Dad loves you, and so do the rest of your brothers. We're working on it. Just remember that, and hang tough. Okay?"

He smiled at Alan with a reassurance he didn't feel, then turned to follow the woman out the door.

Scott thought later that the hardest thing he ever did was to walk out of that room, leaving his little brother behind.


	2. Chapter 2

DECEPTIONS

By Spense

Note: I can't believe I forgot one of the most important things – my beta readers! Kudos and thanks to Boomercat and Lynn. Lynn for all of the technical 'stuff', and Boomercat for encouraging me to write. She received the first chapter and told me it was most definitely NOT over the top, and to finish the darn thing! And thanks for both of them for the same thing for 'Ferrari'. Sorry guys, I can't believe I forgot.

CHAPTER TWO

"This is a preliminary interview for the purpose of gathering facts," the brunette woman in her late forties across the table stated in a business like tone. She probably would have been friendly enough under other circumstances, but Gordon Tracy thought she just looked officious. The other three people on her side of the table, a self righteous looking older man, a middle aged woman, and a younger woman, all exuded confidence. To Gordon's mind they also looked suspicious.

"Please state your full name and age for the records," the woman instructed Gordon.

Gordon sat on his side of the wood conference table accompanied by his father's senior attorney gazing at the small video and audio recording device in the center of the table, and then at the three social services workers across from him. He felt cold in the pit of his stomach.

Taking a deep breath, he spoke. "My name is Gordon Cooper Tracy, and I'm twenty."

"Thank you. And, sir," the social worker commented to the attorney next to Gordon, "your name and occupation please."

"I am Schaeffer Bradley, Senior Attorney for Tracy Enterprises, representing the Tracy family in this matter."

"Thank you. For the record, I am Sylvia Wagner, Senior Child Protective Services Investigator. I am accompanied by . . ." She trailed off and looked at her colleges inquiringly.

"Bennett Andrews, Senior Child Protective Services Investigator."

"Carolyn Young, Child Protective Services Social Worker, supervisor."

"Melinda Matthews, Child Protective Services Social Worker."

Gordon felt particular distaste for the last young woman. She was the one who started all of this.

"Thank you," Sylvia stated. "For the record, we are hear for a preliminary interview in the matter of possible child abuse regarding Alan Shepard Tracy, aged fifteen."

She looked at her notes a moment, then continued. "All right, Gordon, as I said before, this is a preliminary fact finding interview. You are bound by state laws to answer all questions as fully and with as much factual detail as possible. This is not a hearing, but rather an information gathering meeting."

"Let's begin. Gordon, what is your relation with Alan Tracy?"

"He's my brother."

"Fine. Now, Alan returned to boarding school following the Thanksgiving break with a black eye. On examination by the school doctor, it was determined that Alan had a severely bruised left eye and a cracked septum. In addition, he discovered additional deep bruising on Alan's right side consistent with blunt trauma. Upon questioning, Alan indicated the injuries had been inflicted by his brother – you Gordon."

Gordon couldn't help but flinch. He remember talking to Alan after that exam.

"_Yeah, I told the doctor you did it."_

"_Jackass," Gordon growled at his brother's laughing face in the vidphone. "Just for that, I'll blacken your other eye."_

_Alan snickered. "You can try. You normally can't even catch me. You're only fast in water," he taunted._

_Gordon reported with something unmentionable, causing his brother to laugh again._

"_Travis didn't believe it," Alan continued, referring to his friend at school._

"_What'd you tell him?" Gordon asked curiously._

"_That I got it assisting you on Thunderbird Two, what else?"_

"_Alan, you asshole!" Gordon shook his head. "Seriously, what'd you tell him this time?" It had become the great family sport, trying to explain the various injuries to outsiders. They were all getting pretty creative at this point._

"_I told him that you got pissed at me and used me as a punching bag. He didn't believe it for one second. He's seen how fast I can move, especially around my brothers. He told me he'd get the real story out of me yet."_

_Gordon could see why Travis wouldn't necessarily buy the story totally. Alan could be like trying to hold onto an eel when he wanted to be. "Well, don't tell him the real story, okay?"_

"_What, like you think I'm stupid?"_

_Gordon worked hard to restrain himself, ignoring that tempting opening in favor of finding out what he did actually tell the doctor. "So what'd you tell the doc?"_

_Alan shrugged. "That we were goofing around in the pool and I ended up on the bottom of a pile. It was a water volleyball game gone bad. I didn't get any more specific than that."_

"_Plausible enough, I guess." Gordon frowned. "Happens way too often with you anyway. You are such a poor sport."_

"_Not anymore than the rest of you! Besides, you always change the rules when I start to win!"_

_Gordon grinned at the expected rise he'd gotten from his brother. Alan was so predictable. He continued. "We're going to have to start coming up with some better stories. You're way too accident prone."_

"_I am not," Alan replied already irritated, and incensed at the added comment._

_Gordon smirked. "Sure you are," he continued, to see if he could escalate Alan's irritation, as the conversation turned onto another tangent. "Remember when . . ."_

Gordon's attention was brought back to the present as the social worker continued. "Please tell me about those injuries."

"Alan had returned home and we were goofing around in the pool. We started out just swimming and talking, then decided to play water volleyball." Gordon shrugged for emphasis. "He decided to keep the ball. I went to go get it back. We started wrestling. Unfortunately, I hit him instead of the ball."

"Humm. And the bruising on his rib cage?"

"We were close to the edge of the pool. The impact knocked him into it."

"You must have hit him very hard," Sylvia commented.

_Gordon had managed to grab the man and finally restrain him in spite of the heavily swaying rescue platform. He used the flex cuffs they all carried to get him subdued, all the while looking at Alan. Alan was hanging on to the side of the rescue platform, and looking for all the world like he was going to pass out._

"_Alan!" He asked desperately while manhandling the struggling, hysterical passenger out of the platform as soon as it hit the floor of the pod._

"_I'm . . . okay," his brother's breathless voice answered him._

'_Oh, yeah right,' Gordon thought. 'You're just fine. I wasn't aiming at you, and it was a good thing it was a glancing blow.' Shaking his head, he said out loud, "I'll be right back, hang on."_

"'_Kay," was his brother's gasping reply, as he just struggled to stay upright._

"_Gordon! What the hell happened?" Virgil's voice came loudly through his ear piece._

"_Hang on a sec Virg. I'm kind of busy right now."_

_Gordon hustled the other two survivors into the waiting area along with the still struggling man. Restraining him in a jump seat with a five point harness, and indicating seats to the others, he then hurried back out to the rescue platform. Alan was sitting cross-legged on the floor, his head down, arms wrapped around his chest speaking quietly, apparently to one of their brothers._

"_Alan!" he called again in dismay. "I'm back with him, guys," he told his brothers through the earpiece._

"_Nice going, Gordon," came Scott's disgusted voice through his earpiece._

"_I didn't do it on purpose," he exclaimed defensively, tilting Alan's head up carefully. He winced at the rapidly swelling eye and nose. His fist had glanced off the cheekbone and across Alan's eye and nose, thank heavens. Otherwise it would have been significantly worse._

"_Check his ribs, Gordon. He's complaining of pain in his right side." Virgil's voice this time._

_Carefully unfastening the front of Alan's flight suit, he managed to slide the right side off, accompanied by his brother's hiss of pain. He deftly lifted the hem of the turtleneck Alan wore under the flight suit to see an already large bruise forming. Checking the ribs, to his younger brother's accompanying moan, he sat back, exhaling heavily in relief._

"_No broken ribs," he reported back thankfully, carefully assisting Alan back into his flight suit. "Just the mother of all bruises."_

"_Exactly how hard did you hit him Gordon?" Scott asked in disbelief._

"_Way too hard," was Alan's breathless answer._

"A lot harder than I ever intended," Gordon said, depressed. "In fact, I never intended to hit him at all. I was aiming for the ball."

"I see," Sylvia commented.

There was silence in the room for a moment, then she continued. "A friend of Alan's from school informed us that your brother had told him that you used him 'as a punching bag'." She looked at Gordon inquiringly.

"He was joking! Alan told me that he had told Travis that, and that Travis didn't believe him," Gordon answered in disbelief.

"Do you make a habit of hitting your younger brother?" Sylvia asked.

Gordon's emphatic "NO!" clashed with his attorney speaking for the first time.

"That question is not within the scope of this meeting. You are to only gather information for facts, not ask leading questions. Do you have anymore questions regarding the facts of the incident, or are we finished here?"

Sylvia nodded, acknowledging the truth to his statement. "No, I believe that we are finished for the time being. We may have more questions, but not at this time. Thank you. This concludes today's meeting."

With that, to Gordon's immense relief, the meeting ended. However, he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that he hadn't done much to further their cause.


	3. Chapter 3

DECEPTIONS

By Spense

NOTE: This story follows 'Who's In Trouble Now' and 'Hornet's Nest'. This chapter refers loosely to the events in those stories. Other chapters will refer more specifically to the previous stories.

CHAPTER THREE

Schaeffer Bradley met with Jeff Tracy in the billionaire's office at the top of Tracy Tower. He was not looking forward to this meeting at all. Jeff Tracy was not only his employer, but he was a very good friend, and had been for nearly twenty years. Aside from Lucille's death, he hadn't ever seen anything devastate the ex-astronaut as much as this set of circumstances had.

"The state is placing Alan in foster care," he began without preamble. He winced at the look on Jeff Tracy's face. Jeff sat back, exhaled heavily, paled, and closed his eyes for a moment.

"Why? What is their reasoning?" Jeff asked with a calmness that Schaeffer knew masked deep feelings.

The attorney grimaced. "Well, for one, they want Alan out of the line of fire, so to speak, while they are investigating the original accusation, and wherever else it leads them."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jeff asked warily.

Schaeffer chose his words carefully. "Jeff, you know as well as I do how things like this work. Once CPS begins looking into an accusation, they have full rein to investigate and dig as much as they'd like. That's why they want to speak to all of your sons, not just Gordon."

Jeff looked at Schaeffer suspiciously. "What aren't you telling me?"

Schaeffer heaved a sigh. "That after a cursory glance at Alan's medical records, CPS is considering that there may be a pattern of abuse. That's why the restraining order against you – they aren't taking any chances. Additionally, they indicated that the decision to place Alan in foster care is also to observe how Alan interacts under a normal family situation," he continued, only to be cut off by Jeff's explosion.

"What the . . . ? What do they consider my home to be!" He asked, shooting to his feet and beginning to pace.

"Jeff, calm down. I'm just relating to you their decision. Neither one of us likes it," Schaeffer stated.

"Well, I'm certain that Alan's not real happy about it either, and I can't even talk to him about it!" Jeff shot back. He made an effort to control himself and retuned to his seat. "I'm sorry, Schaeffer, I know you're on my side. Please go on."

Schaeffer waited a moment until Jeff collected himself. His heart went out to the man. He had two children of his own, and he couldn't even imagine how he would handle this. The media was in a feeding frenzy, and with all the things that had happened to Alan this year, they were crucifying Jeff.

"The state also wants to have controlled meetings between Alan and his brothers. They want these to be unexpected and unannounced to Alan, in order to observe his reactions to them." Schaeffer paused at the look of pain on Jeff's face, but then continued at his friend's nod. "I also requested specifics on the foster family."

"Good. When is this move going to happen? I'd at least like to get Scott at least into see him again before they move him."

"Too late, I'm afraid. The move has already taken place," Schaeffer told Jeff. He really wished he could give good news for a change.

Jeff just put his head in his hands for a moment, absorbing the latest blow. Looking up again at Schaeffer, he drew a deep breath. "Ok. Tell me about the family."

At least this was something they could both be happy about, Schaeffer thought. "It's a home upstate, in farming country. The father is a doctor, the mother stays at home. However, she is a child psychologist. They have taken in numerous high risk foster kids. That's why she doesn't work – they prefer to put their time into at-risk kids."

Jeff exploded. "My son is not an at-risk kid!"

"I know, I know, Jeff. But think about the state's point of view," Schaeffer said soothingly. "Remember, this is a very high profile case with a great deal of media attention, so they are going to use the very best they have available for Alan. And all the information I've been given about these people show me that this is a perfect situation. Otherwise I would have fought it – you know that."

"Yes, Schaeffer, I do know. My apologies. Go on."

After a careful look at Jeff to make sure he was ready to hear more, Schaeffer continued. "They have three children. One son, age twenty-six, married with a small child. He lives about 100 miles away, and they visit frequently. There are two daughters, both in college. One is twenty-two, the other nineteen. They are both home for Christmas break right now."

Jeff interrupted. "Schaeffer, what are the chances of getting this wrapped up by Christmas? Or at least allowing Alan home for Christmas?"

Schaeffer thinned his lips. "No chance of having Alan on leave over the holiday, I'm afraid. The case has attracted far too much attention. As for having everything finished by Christmas, well, from what I've seen, they are being extremely careful and thorough. I seriously doubt it."

Jeff absorbed this latest news without comment. He turned to stare out the window, looking at the falling snow. Christmas was two weeks away. What a year. He turned back to his friend. "Okay. So, what about the meeting with Gordon this morning? Gordon wasn't very happy about it when I talked with him. He felt they put the worst possible slant on everything he said."

Schaeffer tipped his head thoughtfully. "Well, yes, but that is their job. They are trying to get to the bottom of a situation and protect the child involved."

"Gordon didn't hit Alan on purpose!"

"I know that. But Gordon did hit him, and hit him very, very hard. That's why the investigation started. Gordon did just fine."

Jeff looked frustrated. "John will be in tomorrow night for his meeting day after tomorrow."

"Good," Schaeffer said with a calmness he didn't feel. Gordon had been hiding something. He knew it, and the investigators had known it as well. A tendril of fear slid down the attorney's spine. He had a feeling that Jeff knew it too. All he could do was hope that the meeting with John and the investigators went better than today's with Gordon had. For all of their sakes – especially Alan's.


	4. Chapter 4

DECEPTIONS

By Spense

CHAPTER FOUR

Alan supposed the family he was with was all right. It just wasn't his family. Trevor and Tina Jorgenson seemed fine. In their late forties, they were friendly and kind. Dr. Jorgenson (he'd told him to call him Trevor but Alan didn't want too. He didn't want to get that close to him – it was easier just to call him Sir) worked in the city and commuted. Tina stayed home. She was a pretty good cook it seemed, but Alan wasn't particularly hungry these days.

The farm was okay. It reminded him some of his grandparents farm. The big ancient wooden barn was pretty cool. They had cows and horses, and lots of dogs and cats. The house was big and rambling. It was an old farm house, which had been added onto many times. There were lots of great nooks and crannies, and interesting things to look at. Under other circumstances, Alan would have loved exploring both the house and the barn, especially with Gordon along. But at the moment, he just wasn't interested.

The place was busy right now. The Jorgenson's two daughters, Allison and Tami were home from college and in and out all the time, visiting friends, and talking on the phone. The oldest son, Michael, and his wife and baby were expected in another week or so, and preparations were being made for their stay. The preparations for Christmas were well underway. That was another thing Alan didn't want to think about right now. He really wanted to be home for Christmas, but nobody told him anything, so he had no idea if that was even a possibility. He hadn't seen his family since Scott visited. Alan shied away from that thought. It was just too painful. He missed them terribly.

The hub of the house was the kitchen with a huge family room attached. The room had a large river rock fire place on the wall opposite the kitchen, and it was usually blazing brightly. A large kitchen table was in the middle of the open room, and couches and overstuffed chairs filled the rest of the area. This was were everybody spent most of the their time.

Alan had a room of his own complete with a private bathroom up in a corner of the second floor, looking out on the snowy fields and the barn. It was small, with a sloping ceiling and lots of windows. The big bed took up most of it. He didn't have a TV up there, or a phone of any kind. Not that it mattered. He couldn't call any of the people he wanted to talk too anyway. He'd been told that that was off limits.

But Tina didn't seem to like him spending much time up there alone. She kept encouraging him to come join the group in the family room. The dark evenings, the Jorgensen's usually gathered in there, watching movies or sometimes playing games or cards.

Alan just followed the path of least resistance. He kept thinking about what Scott had told me. '_No running away, no fights, no backtalk, nothing. Remember that anything you say or do will reflect directly on Dad_.' So with Scott's voice echoing continuously in his head, he did his best to not make any waves, and was very careful about what he said and did. He shuddered again at the thought that the state had put a restraining order out against his father. The thought just made him physically sick to his stomach. He wondered what he'd done to bring that on. But for the life of him, he just couldn't figure it out. So he did his very best to play it cool, and coped using the only options available to him.

He couldn't lash out, either physically or verbally as would be his normal response. That wouldn't look very good. Running away would be the kiss of death – he knew that, and Scott had specifically mentioned that. He knew that he could easily get home. And although that would be fine for the short term, long term he'd probably ruin any chances he'd have of going home for good by that course of action. He just wanted to hit something as hard as he could, but that wouldn't do anybody any good either, except maybe make him feel better for the moment.

So Alan just internalized everything. He just didn't know what else to do. He was polite, answering 'yes sir, no sir, yes ma'am, no ma'am', and did what was asked of him. But he turned inward in an effort to try to control his temper and his anger. And he turned to something he'd discovered during his time in New York. He turned to books. He found that living life through the characters of a story was a whole hell of a lot better than his own life right now. And it was the only legitimate escape he could manage.

Tina made it clear that she really wanted him to join them in the family room, and he obeyed her wishes. Then he would lose himself in whatever he was reading at the moment. The one good thing was that the Jorgensens were a family of readers, and they had plenty of reading material all over the house, and once Tina had discovered that he was interested in science fiction and mysteries, she made sure that plenty of possibilities found their way to his room. Alan also found that if he could get away with it, he'd put his headphones on and listen to music at the same time, which thankfully blocked out any of the noise around him. Anything to block out the sounds of the family preparing happily for Christmas. That just made him that much more homesick.

He also ran. It was the only physical outlet allowed to him. Tina had driven him around a route that he could use and made sure he knew how to find his way. He ran every morning on the cleared path next to the road, trying to work off his rage and frustration. It worked a little, but not enough.

The only time Alan felt free to release some of the fear he felt was in the middle of the night, when the house was quiet and all the occupants were asleep. Then Alan would allow the tears to fall – silently - so that nobody would ever know. And that helped only at the moment. In the morning, the fear and uncertainty would all come rushing back again, with no place to go, and no way to release it.

So Alan worked at restraining himself, watching every word he said and thinking about every action before he made a move. It was completely foreign to him to act this way, and it was the hardest thing he'd ever done. Scott had told him it would be. So he coped by bottling everything up and praying that each new day would be the one he would get to go home, or at least be told something about what was going on.


	5. Chapter 5

DECEPTIONS 

By Spense

CHAPTER FIVE

Jeff had been pacing the living room of the Tracy apartment for quite awhile now. By this time it was late afternoon and he was beginning to wonder if he'd be wearing a path in the carpet that would be forever apparent when he finally heard the sound he'd been waiting for. The key grating in the lock of the front door.

"Finally," he breathed, turning towards the sound and facing his son as he entered the spacious penthouse apartment. "John! How did it go?" He asked anxiously.

John quietly divested himself of his coat and looked at his father. Jeff was shocked at how pale he looked. "Go sit down," he ordered, and headed for the kitchen, returning a couple of in a few moments with two cups of strong espresso.

John had dropped into a chair across from the one that Jeff had been occupying earlier in the day, and was sitting with his face in his hands. Jeff's heart sank. This did not look good. "Here," he said quietly, setting the strong beverage on the low mahogany coffee table between him, shifting the newspapers and magazines he littered it with during the long, interminable wait.

His son still didn't move. "John?" he asked, concerned.

"DAMN!" John snarled suddenly, followed by the sound of his tightly clenched fist impacting the solid wood table with a resounding thud. Surging to his feet, he swept the table clear with one single violent movement as he lifted his arm. Paper, china, and coffee flew over the room with a resounding crash. Before Jeff could even react, John was across the room, standing staring out the window on the panoramic expanse of the city.

Jeff watched in absolute disbelief as normally staid, self-contained son worked hard to regain his self-control, and realized that John's actions was more telling than anything he could have said. His heart sank.

John turned around and faced his shocked father. "I don't think I did much for us," he stated unhappily, without preamble. "That has to be the most adversarial and punitive process I've ever been through." Unbelievable words from the most imperturbable of the Tracy clan.

Jeff got up and walked over to his son and touched him gently on the shoulder. "Come sit down."

Returning to their chairs, John looked unhappily at the mess. Before he could say anything, Jeff just said "Leave it. Now tell me," he ordered softly, then settled back to listen.

John groaned. "Nothing I said was right, Dad. Everything got twisted!" He covered his face with his hands again for a moment. "Okay," he said after he had composed himself, meeting his father's worried gaze. "Here's what happened. Everything was going alright until they asked how Alan broke his collar bone last summer."

_"Now, you have just told me that Alan broke his collar bone and wrist in a car accident, while he was driving. Is this correct?" Sylvia Wagner asked neutrally._

_John gave an internal sigh. "Yes, while we were trying to escape from the kidnappers."_

"_For the record, at age fifteen, Alan does not have a driver's license. Does he have a learner's permit?"_

"_No," John answered. Crap. He just knew this was going to get bad._

"_Why not?" Sylvia asked, setting John up nicely to hang himself._

_John didn't have a choice in his response. There was just no way to make it sound palatable. "Because he wasn't old enough."_

"_So why, as the responsible adult present, did you allow Alan behind the wheel of a car?"_

_John thought a bit in order to frame his answer. "Actually, Alan had started the car and was in the driver's seat before I got over to the driver's side."_

"_How did Alan come to be in possession of the keys?"_

"W_e didn't have the keys. I was planning to hotwire it. Alan just did it first." Crap, he shouldn't have said that. This woman was rattling him._

"_Wait a minute. You were going to hotwire the car? You were stealing a car?" Sylvia pressed._

"_Excuse me," Schaeffer broke in. "This incident has already been reported to you in full. You are fully aware that the car was stolen and why. You are also aware that restitution was made to the owner, and that John and Alan were running for their lives at the time. The issue of the car being stolen is not pertinent to your investigation."_

_Sylvia looked as though she would have liked to argue the point, but Schaeffer was correct. She already had the information, and it was not in the scope of her investigation. The question of why Alan was driving the car in the first placewas however. "Noted, Mr. Bradley. So John, why was Alan in the driver's seat in the first place?"_

"_Because he beat me over to that side."_

"_Why didn't you stop him from driving?" Sylvia asked._

_If only it were that easy, John thought. "Because Alan had already hotwired the car, and when I told him to move, he began to drive away."_

"_Alan hotwired the car?" Sylvia asked, pointedly. "And where did he learn to do that?"_

"_I only wish I knew," John muttered. He'd still not gotten a straight answer on that one out of Alan. Nor had Scott that he was aware of, and it certainly wasn't from lack of trying. He was still amazed that Alan had held out this long on Scott. Scott could be very . . . persuasive . . . when he wanted to be. And Scott had made it abundantly clear that he wanted to know where Alan had acquired these particular skills._

_Sylvia shook her head for a moment in disbelief, then returned to her matter-of-fact questioning. "So then you let him drive?"_

"_Well, no. I told him to move, he refused, then drove off without me. I had to jump into the car as it was moving away."_

"_Why didn't you stop him then?"_

"_Pardon me, ma'am, but have you ever actually met my little brother? Nobody can make Alan do anything he doesn't want to do." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, John knew they had been the exact wrong words to say._

"_Is that how Alan actually broke his collar bone and wrist then? You resorted to physically violence in order to restrain him and gain control of the car? Or is that how the accident and injuries occurred - you trying to regain control of the car?"_

"_NO!" John exclaimed emphatically. "I would never do that to Alan! Or anybody else for that matter!"_

"_I'm sorry, but I find it very hard to determine why an adult of your age was unable to deter a minor of Alan's age from driving."_

"_Ms. Wagner, that is conjecture and opinion on your part, not part of examining the facts. In light of this, I am calling a halt to this interview. You have the actual sequence of events already submitted to your office as part of the evidence in the trial of these kidnappers. The information has already been placed into evidence. You may examine it there."_

"So basically, I was guilty any way you looked at it. First, I let Alan drive, and then, in actuality, he drove until we ended up in an accident, regardless of the fact that I tried to stop him. I failed because I was the responsible adult and shouldn't have been letting him drive in the first place. And if those weren't the real facts, then I must have either caused the accident by trying to get the wheel away from him, or inflicted the injuries myself, trying to get him out of the car."

John looked at his father helplessly. "I mean, anyway she wanted to twist it, I was guilty. I just can't believe it."

Jeff's heart bled for his son. John would always do the best he could for his brothers, and to be blamed for something like this was unconscionable to him. During the incident in questions, he'd done amazing things in order to keep his brother and himself safe. Now, he'd be going over it for weeks trying to see if he could have done something different in that situation, second guessing himself, and then he'd turn to examining the interview to see if he could have said something different in order to sway it another direction.

"John, you did your best."

John looked at him gravely. "Yes, but I seriously doubt it did us any good at all, and I'm afraid it may have caused us more harm."


	6. Chapter 6

DECEPTIONS

by Spense

CHAPTER SIX

After rehashing John's interview with Schaeffer over dinner that night, Jeff and John returned to the apartment and talked with the other family members via vidphone until late evening. When they were going over it for the sixth time, Jeff called a halt. It was starting to get late and they weren't accomplishing a thing. John headed off to bed in exhaustion.

The state investigators had a great deal to answer for in Jeff's opinion. He knew they were just doing their job, but they were leaving a disturbing aftermath in their wake. Alan, of course, and now Gordon and John.

Jeff called Lady Penelope and filled her in on the latest. She was as frustrated as the rest of them. She had petitioned to the courts to be appointed Alan's foster guardian, but had been denied. Nothing seemed to be going their way. After encouraging Jeff and making him promise to get some rest at some point, she signed off.

But Jeff wasn't even close to sleep. He was too anxious. Instead, he picked up the reports that Schaeffer had dropped off for him. One was the transcript of John's interview. Nothing new there – it was just as damning as John had indicated. The remaining reports were on Alan himself. One in particular made Jeff's blood run cold. Apparently Alan had already undergone a rigorous physical exam while in the state's custody. Jeff's anger began to burn again as he read the findings and the results of what they had been looking for. The findings had been negative – of course. As though anybody could even think that anyone in his family or in his immediate circle on the island would even conceive of such a thing. Reading the highly detailed, impersonal report, Jeff simmered, his banked anger growing. Good grief, how invasive . . . Poor Alan. That was miserable for an adult, but for a fifteen-year-old kid. And if they had told him what they were looking for . . .

Then he read the next paragraph.CPS had requested that Alan's guardian, a physician, examine him again, as he had been allowed unsupervised contact with his oldest brother in error. The thought of his youngest son going through that once, but much less twice sent Jeff completely over the edge. Why had the suspicion even come up? And it was ludicrous that anybody could ever consider than Scott might . . . Scott himself was going to be devastated at just the suggestion.

Jeff lost control and hurled the heavy glass he was holding at the marble fireplace, shattering it into hundreds of glittering fragments. The similarities of his reaction to John's was not lost on him. He looked out the penthouse window at the snowy, sparkling skyline, breathing hard. How could any of this have ever come about? He couldn't even protect himself right now, much less shelter any of his sons.

TB TB TB TB TB 

Alan huddled in his bed at the Jorgenson's farm, wide awake at two in the morning. This had been the evening from hell in a week and a half of nightmare. After dinner, Dr. Jorgensen had taken him into the small office/exam room he kept at the back of the house and told him that he needed to give him a physical exam, at the request of the courts.

It had been almost an exact repeat of the exam he'd been given by the state physician when Alan had been taken from his school and put into the care of the courts. That one had been more thorough and invasive than anything he had ever experienced, and one of the most horrible things he'd ever gone through. This time was almost worst, as he had a suspicion of what was going to come. No matter how much Dr. Jorgenson's tried to talk to him, and tried to get him to relax, Alan just couldn't, making the whole process that much more uncomfortable. Alan endured without saying a word, silent tears running down his cheeks at times, hands clenching the sheet on the examining table.

Finally it was over, and the physician finished up, telling Alan kindly that he didn't need to come to the family room if he didn't want to, he could just go to his own room.

Still not speaking, Alan retreated to that scant refuge. He'd tried to read for awhile, but even that was impossible. He finally just sat and stared at the snow for a long time after that, still holding everything inside until he knew he would be alone and uninterrupted.

When Tina came to tell him to put the light out and go to bed, he'd obeyed in silence. Thank heavens she hadn't touched him. He didn't know if he could have contained his rage if she had. And then where would they be? He just wanted to be with his family. Then he could just rant and rage at his brothers and they would either just laugh at him, or give back as good as he gave out, or just hold him and tell him it was okay. When had all of that become so wrong?

So now it was two in the morning and he still hadn't slept. He'd pretended the couple of times Tina had looked in on him. Why wouldn't they just leave him alone?

He couldn't even cry. He'd spent so much time trying to repress what he was feeling. How did Scott do it? He was always so serious, and so in control. John and Virgil were too. Alan knew he'd never done very well at controlling his emotions. Talk about a failure. He knew he had a short temper. But he'd also seen any one of his brothers lose their tempers too. But not as often as he had, he knew that. Well, he wouldn't fail them this time. If what it took was to be the 'perfect kid', then that's what he'd do. He wouldn't give these people any ammunition to use against his family. None of them had done anything wrong!

His stomach clenched in response at his anger. Oh no, he couldn't possibly be . . . But he was. Alan barely made it to the bathroom before he lost the contents of his stomach. Even this he did as silently as possible, so as not to draw attention to himself. The dry heaves that followed lasted for a long time after he'd lost anything that could came up. Alan was able to return to bed at about three-thirty, and finally dropped off to sleep, exhausted.


	7. Chapter 7

DECEPTIONS

By Spense

AUTHOR'S NOTE: First, thank you all so much for the marvelous reviews. It's really very gratifying. I had some real doubts about this story, thinking it was too heavy handed. Boomercat convinced me otherwise (which is why it's being posted in the first place – you can thank her for that), and now the rest of you are doing the same.

Secondly, all of you who reviewed the last chapter pointed out something that I had completely missed. You are indeed correct that Dr. Jorgenson should have had a witness in the room while he examined Alan. This was strictly an oversight on my part (not a part of the plot) and had I realized it at the time, I would have written a wittness in. So, to those of you who gleefully seized on that circumstance as an out for the Tracy family, I'm sorry. It was not meant to be that way, and will be corrected if this story is ever posted elsewhere. Please don't blame Schaeffer for not seizing the opportunity - it wasn't supposed to be there in the first place - it's my fault, not his. I really thought I had caught all of those. And now, onward to the next chapter.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Late afternoon the next day, a still subdued Alan sat on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, reading a book. He was trying desperately to ignore the urgings of the Jorgenson family to involve him in trimming the Christmas tree. The doorbell rang, and Dr. Jorgenson headed to answer it. He did his best to ignore everything altogether and concentrate on his book. He'd been cold all day, and his stomach was still refusing to completely settle, so he was being careful.

"Alan," Dr. Jorgenson's voice broke in to his musings. "There's someone here to see you."

Alan groaned to himself. Nobody probably that he wanted to see, more than likely. He carefully marked his page, then looked up with an obedience he didn't feel. There was the social worker, what was his name? Alan didn't really care. What did they want now? Mr. Bradley was there, Dad's friend, probably here as his attorney. Well, that was definitely an improvement. At least one friendly, familiar face. Then a third person stepped into the view as he handed his coat to Dr. Jorgenson. Alan froze, then launched himself off the couch and bolted across the room.

"JOHN!"

John grinned at the fast moving streak of his little brother, then hugged him hard. "Hi ya squirt! It's good to see you too."

Tina, watching from across the room, caught her breath at the change in Alan's face. Suddenly the quiet, obedient, impassive teenager was full of life. His expression was vibrant and open, and he was clearly ecstatic at seeing his brother. 'My word . . .' She looked over and met her husband's gaze, his look reflecting the same thoughts she had.

John grinned and ruffled his brother's hair, laughing as Alan pulled away, annoyed. "How are you?"

"Fine," Alan answered absently. "Is Dad here? Do I get to go home now?" He asked eagerly.

"Sorry Al. Dad's not here – just me. And no, you can't come home yet." John's heart broke for all of them as Alan's face fell. Trying to distract him, he nodded at the book on the couch Alan had vacated. "What are you reading?"

The distraction worked, only because Alan let it. John was under no illusions. His brother was very bright – not always focused, but defiantly bright. Leading John over to the couch, the two sat down, with Alan making sure he was up close to John. John slid an arm over his shoulders, and asked quietly, "How are you really, Al?"

Alan ignored the question as he watched Tina deftly shepherd her daughters out of the room and return to join her husband, the social worker, and Mr. Bradley at the table, giving the brothers at least an illusion of privacy.

"Let me guess, supervised visit?" Alan asked, jaded.

"Got it in one," John sighed.

"Is Dad okay?" Alan asked.

"What do you think? No. He's not. He's worried sick about you. You're living with strangers that he knows nothing about, and he can't do anything about it the moment. He gave me a whole laundry list of things to look at and to ask you."

Alan nodded thoughtfully. That sounded about right. "Yeah, tell him I'm fine. I'm trying to do what Scott told me. To play it cool, and not make any trouble."

"You?" John snorted, and Alan elbowed him in the ribs in response.

The light moment passed quickly. "Seriously, Alan, good job. That's the best thing you can be doing right now. We're all working hard to get through this. Schaeffer's been on it the whole time. You know how tenacious he is. It's personal to him too, you know that."

Alan nodded. He did know. The Bradleys were good friends of the family.

"Now how about these people?" John asked. "Are they being good to you?"

Alan shrugged. "I guess. They're nice enough. But I just want to go home, and I really want to see Dad."

John hugged him closer. "Trust me, he really wants to see you badly as well. Schaeffer's working on it. You know he's the best."

Alan nodded.

John sobered again. He had another item that his father wanted to know about, and he wasn't sure how to frame the question. "Dad got a report that you'd been through a couple of physical exams. How was that?"

John could feel the shudder run through his brother as Alan looked away. "Al?" he whispered, bringing Alan's gaze back to him.

"It was awful," Alan answered, almost inaudibly. "They . . ." he broke off as embarrassment and humiliation at the recollection of the procedures took precedence, and looked away again, but not before John had seen the blue eyes fill with tears. Alan's fragile self-respect would not let them fall.

John allowed him that small comfort, and didn't push the issue, and just settled for hugging him closer. "It's okay," he whispered, feeling terribly inadequate. Right now Alan needed their father to help him deal with this – not his brother.

"Why did they . . ." Alan began, then broke off again. He didn't even want to talk about it to John.

Well, that answered the other question, John thought. Alan didn't realized what they had been looking for. Thank heavens for small favors. Alan didn't need to know what his family had been suspected of right now. They'd save that explanation for later.

Alan looked back at him, emotions quickly under control again. John wasn't sure he liked how fast Alan was able to bottle it up. That was an aftereffect that did not bode well for the physical or mental health of his normally temperamental and expressive brother. He steered away from that thought, and concentrated instead on the words that Alan was speaking.

"But I didn't lose it, John," Alan said with brittle pride in his self-control. It was obviously the one thing he felt he could be proud of right now. "I kept it together."

Might have been better if you hadn't, John thought sadly. What a thing for a kid to have to go through without any family around for support, and absolutely nobody close enough for him to feel comfortable with to talk to about it. Once again he was grateful to see that the Tracy toughness ran true in Alan. They could put him back together once they got him home. John refused to entertain the thought that that might not happen.

"Tell Scott for me that I'm doing what he said," Alan continued.

John forced himself to smile. "I will, Al, I will." And Scott may well be kicking himself from here to kingdom come after I tell him.

"Alan, I don't have a whole lot of time here, and several of the others wanted me to give you some messages from them." At Alan's devastated look, he continued quickly, imparting the messages from not only his brothers, but Lady Penelope and Parker, as well as the other inhabitants of the island.

John made sure he kept his voice well down when he imparted Gordon's message. They didn't need any more misunderstandings right now. Gordon had wanted Alan to know that he'd blacken his brother's other eye if he didn't get back soon to pull his weight around the island. That got the expected and welcome laugh from Alan, as well as a response to be sure that John called Gordon an unprintable name for him.

The mood was significantly lightened as the brother traded small talk. John stored away small details about Alan, his reactions and his surroundings for the grilling from his family that was sure to follow his arrival back home. It was bound to make the CPS interviewers look like an amateurs.

When John was told that they needed to leave, he handed Alan a stack of books from his personal library that he'd brought with him. He knew that even one small piece of home would be helpful to his brother and might bring a small measure of comfort.

Like Scott, John thought that walking away from that house, leaving Alan standing on the porch with strangers, was one of the hardest things he'd ever done. He watched from the car as Tina reached out to put a hand on Alan's shoulder, and his brother shift away from the touch. Once again, John wasn't sure he liked the expressionless mask that settled over Alan's face. He knew his father wouldn't.

Tina and Trevor Jorgenson had their own concerns regarding the child in their care. Alan stood on the front porch watching the car until it had completely vanished from sight in the dark.

"Come on Alan, it's time to go inside," Trevor urged.

"Yes sir," came the polite, emotionless reply as Alan turned towards the door.

Tina didn't try to touch him again. She just exchanged a concerned glance with her husband as the three of them joined their daughters back in the family room.

Tina noticed that Alan had headed back for the couch, but ignored the book he'd been reading in favor of one of the volumes his brother had left, and put on his headphones.

She listened absently to her daughters chattering about the good looking Tracy son who had just visited, but was more focused on rearranging her thoughts about the situation in front of her. She had a feeling that things might not be as Sylvia and Melinda believed. She watched as Alan ran his fingers slowly over his brother's name on the bookplate in the front cover of the expensive, leather bound edition of a science fiction classic – 'Stranger in a Strange Land' by Robert Heinlein.

Everything she had seen spoke of love and caring between the two brothers, not of the abuse she'd been led to believe. She'd heard about the interview with John in a call from Sylvia and Melinda, and had heard their thoughts that John was actually the cause of Alan's broken collar bone at the time, not a car accident. After what she'd see today, Tina was not so sure. Alan's normally closed emotions took on a different light after having witnessed his open enthusiasm with his older brother. This had her very worried indeed. It was too early to tell, and she definitely needed a whole lot more information, but this could well be a child traumatized by the very system that was supposed to protect him – not by his family.

Lifting her eyes, she met her husband's gaze once again, and saw her revelation and concern mirrored in his own. Good lord, what was actually happening here?


	8. Chapter 8

DECEPTIONS

By Spense

CHAPTER EIGHT

As John had expected, the interrogation he received from his father and the rest of the family and even Lady Penelope, conferring via vidphones, was intense. They hashed everything out over and over until once again, Jeff finally called a halt, telling everybody that this was counterproductive.

John had finally wandered to bed, and absolutely crashed, both mentally and physically exhausted. He gone to sleep almost instantly. Unfortunately, his slumber was troubled by dreams of not being able to say what he meant, and anything he was able to say being twisted out of recognition. In one of his wakeful moments, he thought his dreams weren't very far from the truth. Both he and his father were awake early the next morning, and from the drawn look on Jeff's face, John didn't think he'd slept any better than he had. As a result, John had left fairly early the next morning, and his father had gone to Tracy Tower to try and distract himself by working.

John was not at all surprised to be met by his oldest brother as soon as he stepped out of the plane on Tracy Island several hours later. Having seen Scott's reaction to what he'd been told of the visit with Alan, he knew Scott would be on a tear.

"Come on. Gordon's waiting for us in the study with Brains, and Virgil's on the vidphone."

"Wait a second," John said mildly. "Aren't we supposed to be leaving for Thunderbird Five? Virgil's got to be in town tomorrow for his interview."

"Later," Scott said dismissively. "We need to talk. I've got an idea."

"Okay . . ." John said, trailing behind his brother. Arguing with Scott right now might not be a very good idea.

Arriving in the study, he met Gordon's knowing glance with one of his own. "Hey John," Gordon greeted him. "Scott has 'A Plan'."

"So I hear," John said, dropping resignedly into a chair. He hoped this would be over quickly. He was tired, and being up on Five would at least give him a break, and some space to think. "Hi Virg," he greeted his brother on the vidphone, and nodded to Brains who smiled a return greeting.

"Hi John," Virgil acknowledged, then looked to Scott.

Scott stood, leaning both hands on his father's desk looking determined. "So, Gordon and John have been through the interviews with the state, and found them incredibly confrontational . . ." he began.

John stopped him right there. "That's the wrong word – they weren't confrontational at all. They just saw what they wanted to see in the incidents they chose to discuss. There wasn't anything we could say that was right."

"I'll say," Gordon muttered.

Scott made a dismissive motion with his hand. "Fine – I'm not worried about semantics right now. What I'm getting at, is that based on what you've both said, and the transcripts Schaeffer got for us, they are looking at one thing, and one thing only – that this family is guilty. End of story. They are trying to prove guilt, not prove innocence."

"Yeah, so?" Gordon asked. "That's their job. It's lousy for us, but I don't see anything sinister in it, other than the obvious."

"I'd have to agree with Gordon," John said. "They are pretty tightly focused, but that's the state for you. I certainly don't like it, in fact I think it's reprehensible, but I don't see it as unusual."

"What if there is another motive? Something to get back at any one of us, or Tracy Enterprises, or even International Rescue?" Scott brought up.

"Scott, don't be ridiculous. This isn't a personal vendetta," John stated.

"But how do we know? Have any of us looked into the histories of the people leveling the charges?" Scott coolly pointed out.

"We've been a little busy for that," Gordon muttered.

"So what you're saying Scott, is that you think there might be an ulterior motive in these charges?" Virgil asked finally.

"I don't know. But I want to check it out."

Brains finally spoke up. "So you believe, uh, that the state workers involved have an agenda . . ."

"Might," Scott broke in. "Might have an agenda."

"Fine. Might, uh, have an agenda against your family. Why?"

Scott looked irritated. "I don't know! If I knew that, I wouldn't be talking to you now. I just want to look at the possibility. Explore the backgrounds of the people involved and see if everything adds up."

"But won't that make us exactly like them?" John asked cautiously.

Scott was beginning to look more than irritated, he was beginning to get mad. "No! This is our brother that we're talking about. He's living with strangers right now because of these accusations. In addition, the things that are being said about our father throughout the media right now, and the pounding his reputation is taking is not exactly something that I want to sit down and take. Not if there is even a slim chance that something else may be going on."

"Okay, okay!" John threw up his hands. He wasn't going to argue with 'Air Force' Scott right now. "Do whatever you want to do. If you think checking into the backgrounds of the state social workers involved will do any good, go ahead. Personally, I think you're blowing smoke."

Shaking his head he got to his feet. "I've got to go get Thunderbird Three ready if Virgil's going to make his interview tomorrow. I'll let you know when I'm ready to blast-off Virg."

"Ok," Virgil called from the vidphone. "I'll be ready."

"John," Scott called after his disappearing brother, "are you willing to help?"

"Oh, I'll help," John's voice drifted back as he left the room, "Not that I think it'll do any good."

"I'll help too, but I think you're completely whacked," Gordon told Scott in disgust as he got up to follow John. "You haven't had the pleasure yet. These are just disagreeable people, way too into their jobs to see straight." He left shaking his head.

"I, uh, believe that I'll go now as well," Brains interjected. "But, uh, count me in as well."

"Thanks Brains," Scott responded gratefully. He waited until they were all cleared of the room before he turned back to the vidphone. "Well Virg, do you think I'm crazy as well?"

Virgil shrugged. "Hard to tell. You've always been a little off center."

The unexpected levity caught Scott by surprise and he laughed in spite of himself. Groaning, he grimaced at his brother. "Let me rephrase that. Do you think I'm wrong?"

Virgil frowned. "I don't know. I do know that I haven't seen Johnny or Gordon so unsettled by anything in a very long time. They've been in a whole lot of stressful situations – both family and rescue, and I haven't seen either of them react like they are now. I know Dad told you about John's reaction."

Scott nodded. "Oh yeah. That was certainly far from the norm for Johnny. I think the transcriptions can't possibly do the interviews justice."

"Well, we'll know tomorrow. I'm up. But honestly, I think that maybe I can make up for some of the damage. I can't think of anything that they could use against me."

Scott snorted. "You mean like you didn't hit Alan hard enough to give him a black eye and a broken nose, or you didn't let him drive himself into an accident?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"I hope so. We need something for our side right now. I'm hoping these background checks just might be it."

"Scott . . ."

Virgil's hesitant tone alerted Scott that his brother was about to bring up something he probably wasn't going to want to hear.

"What?" he asked cautiously.

"Are you okay? I mean, after hearing about the reports that Schaeffer brought regarding Alan, and the things they were looking for . . ." he trailed off, obviously trying to find a delicate way of asking what he wanted to say.

Scott didn't let him. He said the unthinkable words straight out. "You mean, am I okay with the inference that I might have molested my little brother in a twenty minute unsupervised visit in a busy state building in the middle of the afternoon just because a state worker made a mistake and left me alone with him? Dear God, Virgil, NO, I'm NOT!" He exploded.

Virgil winced. Yes, this was exactly what he'd been afraid of. That Scott had just been raging silently. He let the blast continue.

"That fact that anybody could think that of me, or of anybody else in this family is completely beyond my comprehension. And the fact that Alan, probably not even understanding why this was happening to him was subjected to two – not just one, mind you, but two - miserable exams carried out by complete strangers – not even somebody he was familiar with - just to 'make sure that nothing happened' blows my mind! OF COURSE NOTHING HAPPENED! And that's what they confirmed, both times! It's in black and white in their own reports."

He finished bluntly. "If there is any way we can stop this now, then I will do whatever it takes. I don't care if it comes to reading the mail of the social workers involved or tapping their phone. I'll break whatever laws I need to in order to find out just what in the hell is going on!" He sat back, breathing hard.

"Are you finished?" Virgil asked. Scott's explosions didn't bother him. He thought they were probably more healthy than not.

"Yeah, I think so." Scott grated as he got out of his chair and started to pace. "So are you going to help, or what?"

"Did you really have to ask? Of course." Virgil kept silent about the fact that he agreed with his other brothers, and that his personal feeling was that this was Scott's method of coping. He didn't think that they'd find anything at all, mainly because there just wasn't anything to find.


	9. Chapter 9

DECEPTIONS

By Spense

CHAPTER NINE

Alan was just finishing the last part of his morning run. The morning was bright, and the sun sparkled on the crisp, deep coating of gleaming white snow, making him squint. He should have worn sunglasses. He slowed to a brisk walk and headed up the walkway to the house when, out of nowhere, a snowball hit him in the back of the head. Startled, he looked around with a exclamation.

"Gotcha!" A familiar voice called.

At the sight of his red-headed brother, Alan let out a whoop, and quickly bent to make a snowball in order to return fire. A quick volley followed, with snowballs flying wildly, thick and fast, until Gordon caught Schaeffer's wordless motion, and brought the impromptu battle to a halt.

"I give, I give," He said, putting his hands up beseechingly.

"Say Uncle," Alan taunted, another snowball ready to fire.

"Uncle. Come on Alan, be a sport, Uncle!" Gordon laughed, throwing an arm over his brother's shoulder, and knocked the snowball out of his hand as they moved up the porch steps.

"Man, Gordon. You've become a real wuss," Alan complained as they entered the hallway, Tina holding the front door open for them. She grinned at their red, laughing faces.

"You never used to give up that easy."

"Well, that's because we usually had Scott, Virg, and John all ganging up on us," Gordon pointed out. "It was self-preservation."

Alan conceded to his logic. "You've got a point. At least sometimes John was on our side," he commented.

"Yeah, but was he ever any real help?"

"Well, actually, no," Alan laughed at that, as he divested himself of his damp outerwear. "Maybe he was just a plant. A mole to get our strategy," He mused thoughtfully.

"Nah. You'd have told him if he asked you. He didn't have to be secretive about trying to find out," Gordon snickered.

"Oh, shut up!"

Tina broke in, enjoying the banter. "Hot chocolate in the family room. That will warm you up."

"Great!" Alan said beaming at her. Tina was shocked. This was the most open Alan had ever been around her.

"That sounds terrific. Thank you!" Gordon grinned his 'Tracy smile'. It was a devastating weapon, and he planned on blatantly using anything he could to make all the points he could while he was here.

"Your welcome," she said laughing, indicating that they lead the way. Alan's two older brothers certainly knew how to use their charm to their advantage.

Following the teasing brothers through the hall into the back of the house, Tina was more than a little bemused. So this was the brother who had hit Alan so hard that he'd broken his nose, and left him sporting that now very interestingly colored black eye. She had specifically requested that Sylvia change the visitation schedule from Virgil to Gordon for today. After her observations of Alan and John, she really wanted to see how Alan reacted to the brother who had caused such damage to his face and ribcage.

She joined the social worker - Bennett ,her husband, and Mr. Bradley around the table once again. She noticed Trevor keeping an eye on the two brothers just as she was. Knowing her husband as she did, she knew he was seeing what she was – the real Alan Tracy. She was beginning to realize just how few glimpses they had had of him while he was here. The only times really, were when he was in the company of his brothers.

Tina was used to dealing with foster children who were closed off emotionally, or distant, much as Alan had been during his time with them so far. Usually that behavior was in response to trauma, and most of the kids they'd taken in came around and blossomed during their time with her family. The combination of a warm loving environment and a safe home was usually all it took. Alan was different – he was becoming more closed off, rather than less. And she was now beginning to think she knew why.

Tina noted that Alan was certainly not any more afraid, or cautious around Gordon than he was of John. And this was the brother who's actions had started the whole ball rolling. Tina trusted her gut instincts, and right now they were telling her more strongly than ever that this whole situation was backwards, and that her family and CPS had no business being involved here at all. Unfortunately, the choice wasn't hers, but she could certainly make her feelings known. In the meantime, she would do her best to help Alan cope, and offer whatever comfort he would accept. It was all that any of them could do.

_**TB TB TB TB TB **_

Much later that day, Schaeffer Bradley and Virgil Tracy were seated in front of the same party of players that John, and Gordon before him, had met. Virgil was no longer as confident as he had been with Scott. Everything had been going fine until Sylvia brought up an incident that floored Virgil. He had all but forgotten about it.

"Mr. Tracy, according to Alan's medical records, approximately eighteen months previous, in, I believe it was June, you brought your brother to the hospital emergency room from Tracy Island. Alan had a twisted knee, a severely sprained ankle, along with some minor tendon damage, and a badly bruised hip. In addition, he other minor scrapes and bruises. However, there was also a bruise to his shoulder that the doctor reported looked as though it had come from a hand."

She looked at him for a moment, then returned to her notes. "According to the report, you told the Emergency Room nurse that Alan had fallen from an aircraft you were repairing at the time. Per the report, the nurse had noted that you had seemed angry at Alan. Please tell us exactly what happened."

Oh, man. He'd completely forgotten that one. Where on earth had they dug this up from? This was going to be trouble. It hadn't seemed that big of a deal at the time, and yeah, he hadn't been real happy.

_Virgil had spent the day working on repairs on Thunderbird Two. He'd lowered the struts over Pod One, trying to correct a fault where the pod and TB 2 joined. Virgil was sitting on the top of the craft working on the problem, joined by Alan. Jeff usually kept Alan away from the Thunderbirds unless somebody was with him, so when one of his older brothers was anywhere in the vicinity, Alan was almost always in evidence. The machines fascinated him._

"_Alan, be careful! It's a long drop," Virgil said, annoyed, looking up to see Alan peering over the edge._

"_I'll say," he said, looking over again, then backing away to a safer place on the sloping dome of the pod._

"_If you don't sit down and stay in one place, I'll make you put on a safety harness," Virgil threatened._

_Alan looked mutinous, but came over to where he was working and sat down heaving a martyred sigh. _

_Virgil shook his head and returned his attention to his work. Unfortunately, he was stuck with Alan. Gordon was off on an ocean swim, building up his stamina, Brains was off on a research trip, and Scott and Jeff had left for a short trip to the mainland. His father had taken Virgil aside and asked him to keep an eye on Alan. Virgil had not been pleased._

"_Dad, come on. He doesn't need a babysitter! Besides, it will take me three times as long to get anything done with him interrupting me every five minutes with questions."_

_Jeff's eyes narrowed in irritation. "You are correct, your brother doesn't need a 'babysitter' as you so eloquently put it, but he is bored with everybody gone or busy. And I'm sure I don't have to remind you that a bored Alan is an Alan in some kind of trouble."_

_Virgil grimaced. His father was correct on all counts. _

_Jeff continued. "He'll hang around if you're working on Thunderbird Two, so just keep an eye on him please." It was not a request, and they both knew it._

"_Fine," Virgil said grudgingly. "But he'd better not hold me up. We can't have Thunderbird Two out of action for long."_

_So now, here he was, breaking his concentration every few minutes to answer a question, or look at something, or just to keep his brother from breaking his fool neck._

"_Alan," he growled through gritted teeth after what seemed the fiftieth question, "Look over at the joins on the tail section for me. See if you can spot anything that looks out of line." That should keep him busy. Virgil went thankfully back to work as Alan cheerfully agreed and began to make his way stern._

_His concentration was broken once again by a startled exclamation, and Virgil looked up just in time to see his brother slide off the side of the great green aircraft._

_Fear making him move quickly, Virgil was over to where he had seen his brother fall, shouting Alan's name. Looking over the side, he was incredibly relieved to see his brother right on the edge of the wing, which had apparently broken his fall, hanging on for dear life. "Hold on Alan, I'm on my way," he said in concern, beginning to carefully climb down._

"'_Kay," came the shaky reply. _

_Virgil hadn't gotten more than a few feet, when Alan gave a startled yelp, and slipped off the wing, falling the remaining distance to the concrete floor of the hanger. Virgil watched, horrified for a frozen second. Alan's moan, and the way he curled in on himself, brought him back to instant awareness and he started to move forward towards the ladder. "Hang on Alan, I'm coming down. AND DON'T MOVE!" Not hearing a response made him move even quicker._

_Virgil made it down to his little brother's side in seconds. Alan had obeyed him (that was a first) and was lying motionless on the concrete, looking stunned._

_Putting a hand lightly on his shoulder, he started to visually go over his brother. "I'm here, Al. Are you okay?" Dumb question. "What hurts?"_

_Alan answered in a small voice, sounding shaken. "Only my left ankle. I think I'm okay."_

_Virgil looked at him in disbelief, then back up to the wing of the mammoth green aircraft. Thank heavens Alan had been so close to the wing when he slipped. That fall probably would have killed him had he gone straight to the ground._

_Alan was trying to sit up. Virgil shook himself back to reality, and moved to steady him. "Are you sure? That was quite a fall."_

"_No kidding," Alan agreed, his voice growing steadier. "No, I'm okay."_

"_Uh-huh, sure. Look at me," Virgil ordered, and peered at his pupils. He then followed with a quick once over of his brother. One ankle was tender when he touched it, but that seemed to be it. He couldn't quite believe it, but amazingly Alan really looked like he was okay. Talk about a miracle. He moved to activate his wristcomm._

"_What are you doing?" Alan asked suspiciously._

"_Calling Dad, what else?" Virgil said wryly, his adrenalin levels finally beginning to drop as the danger appeared to be over._

"_Oh, man," Alan said in disgust. "Geez Virgil, you worry too much. You can tell Dad when he gets home. I'm fine!"_

"_Yeah, right. Sorry sprout. Time for a reality check - I'm not laying myself open to Dad's wrath by waiting, got it? If it comes to having you mad at me, or Dad mad at me, I'll take you any day," He said as he looked at his wristcomm, waiting for his signal to be acknowledged._

_Alan started to get up in disgust. Virgil clamped a hand on his shoulder and forced him back down again. "Sit," he ordered. He didn't release him, knowing Alan's tendency to bounce around like a Jack Russell terrier. He could keep him in place this way. _

"_Yes, Virgil, what is it?" His father picture appeared, and Virgil related the incident quickly._

"_You say he's okay? Let me talk to him," Jeff asked in concern. Virgil passed the wristcomm over to Alan who assure his parent that he was fine – no harm done, then passed it back to Virgil._

_Virgil was finally believing Alan. His color was coming back and he did look fine. Talk about lucky. However, his father's next words doused his good mood._

"_I want you to take Alan to the hospital. I want an x-ray of that ankle, and I want him checked out. That's a long drop to a concrete floor." _

_Both brothers disagreed vehemently with that declaration. Alan had no desire to go to the ER, and Virgil, now that the crisis was over, and sure his brother was fine, had no desire to tie up the remainder of the afternoon playing ambulance service._

"_Dad, I can just get ice on his ankle. That's all they'll do anyway," Virgil said, all the while thinking that Alan would then stay in one place and he could get back to work._

"_Dad, I'm fine!" Alan griped._

"_No." Jeff's voice came through clearly with the tone of voice that shut down both arguments instantly. "You're both going and that's final. Call me when you get there," he said with finality._

_It was two very disgruntled brothers who sat in the plane on the way to the mainland, Alan with his ankle packed in ice._

"_Nice going Alan," Virgil muttered._

"_I didn't do it on purpose," Alan pointed out._

"_No, you were just careless, as usual," Virgil replied icily._

"_No, I wasn't!" Alan shot back._

"_Now Thunderbird Two's going to be out of commission that much longer," Virgil muttered, actually, more to himself, but Alan caught it._

"_Well, don't blame me! Blame Dad. I don't want to be going any more than you do."_

"_He worries too much," Virgil muttered._

"_I'll say." It was about the only thing they agreed on that afternoon._

_They continued the argument sporadically throughout the remainder of the plane trip, and on into the ER._

Virgil reflected how badly he had felt when it became apparent that Alan had not only done some tendon damage to his left ankle, but had also badly twisted his knee and bruised up his hip. And Virgil's grip on his shoulder to keep him quiet had left a large bruise as well. Virgil had had to agree that his father had been right to insist on the trip to the ER. But how exactly was he going to explain this one?

Virgil opened his mouth and began to describe the incident. He omitted Thunderbird Two, and instead substituted Tracy One (the biggest aircraft in their hanger he could think of that he could talk about) for the aircraft in question. He also omitted Alan hanging off the wing and just talked about him sliding off the top.

"That seems an awful lot of damage for a slide down the side of a jet," Sylvia commented.

"I know, but that's what happened," Virgil commented.

The disbelief in the room was palpable, and there was absolutely nothing Virgil could do to dissolve it. His heart sank as he realized that he'd just added another nail to their coffin.


	10. Chapter 10

DECEPTIONS

by Spense

CHAPTER TEN

Schaeffer Bradley was not a happy man. He had a problem. It was a problem that bothered him to such an degree, that here he was, sitting on a plane en-route to Tracy Island on the day before Christmas Eve, rather than sitting home with his family. He would have much rather been home listening the Christmas carols, sipping eggnog and enjoying his family than here. Actually, he would rather be anywhere else than where he was headed right now.

It was December 23rd and all hearings and proceedings in the matter of Alan Tracy and the CPS office had stopped for Christmas, and wouldn't resume again until the 27th. Jeff Tracy had returned to Tracy Island, as there was nothing he could do in town until hearings resumed. Schaeffer Bradley had gone home to his family, tying to enjoy the holiday, all the while knowing his friend and employer would not be. But there was still a problem. A rather large one at that.

The Tracys were lying to him. All of them. It was exceedingly obvious with Gordon and Virgil. There was no disputing that both of those two were covering something up. He knew the investigators had picked up on it to some extent, although probably not as much as he had. He knew both boys far too well. John was also hiding something. He was far more subtle about it, but the deception was still there. However it was Jeff himself that worried Schaeffer the most.

He knew Jefferson Tracy very well. They had been good friends through some of the best and worst moments in their lives. Jeff had been his best man at his wedding. Jeff was also named guardian for his two young children if anything happened to either he and his wife. He remembered the births of Gordon and Alan, and had helped out watching the other children during those times. He just couldn't get over the feeling that Jeff was hiding something.

The thing that frightened Schaeffer most was that he was terribly afraid that the state's charges might be true. All he knew about the Tracys told him that the accusations couldn't possibly be accurate. That each of them as an individual, and the group as a whole were just absolutely incapable of abuse. To believe any one of the Tracys guilty of child abuse was about as possible as the sun rising in the west tomorrow. But the evidence was strong, and each of the family was lying to him in some form or another. As tough as an attorney as Schaeffer was, this was personal, and he felt like his world was coming off its axis.

Schaeffer had to find out. His integrity demanded it. This might be the end of a twenty plus year friendship, but he had to know. And he wasn't going to take no for an answer.

The pilot landed the plane on the short runway with precision, and taxied over the where an oriental gentleman was waiting. Schaeffer should have known that his arrival would have been noted. Jeff was always very thorough.

The attorney didn't speak except to greet Kyrano. He sat silent as the Jeff's long time retainer drove him toward the house in the golf cart. There were going to be no pleasantries today. He was here as an advocate for Alan, and he was going to get some answers.

Jeff stood up as he entered his study. "Schaeffer! What brings you here?" The smile faded as he registered the look on his old friend's face. "What's happened? What's wrong? Is it Alan?"

"Jeff, I need some answers," Schaeffer said heavily, dropping his briefcase and crossing his arms. He stood directly across from Jeff and met his eye boldly. "You and your sons have been lying to me and to the investigators during these meetings. I need to know why. Because if it's something to do with Alan, and he is being abused, I can't keep representing you." Schaeffer laid all the cards out on the table bluntly. "Not and be able to live with myself."

He paused, and took a deep breath. "I don't want to believe it is. But Jeff, I've sat in those hearings, and there are far too many inconsistencies. I see them, and the CPS investigators see them. And if it isn't about Alan, then I still need to know, because I can't help you if I don't know all the facts."

Jeff was silently at his friend for a long moment longer, his face impassive. After a bit, he seemed to come to a decision. Then, he reached out to his desk and pushed a button. "Boys, I need you up here right away please." Turning back to Schaeffer, he finally spoke to him as his sons appeared from various directions.

"I assume that this will be under attorney / client privilege?"

"Of course," Schaeffer said with a sinking heart. He felt cold in the pit of his stomach. Part of him really didn't want to know whatever it was that Jeff was about to reveal. He was afraid. Demons hid in many unlikely places.

He looked at the three Tracy sons who ranged themselves in a loose line across the side of the room in front of the mural depicting the family. Scott, Virgil and Gordon were all in casual tropical dress. At first glance, they looked for all the world like playboys on a vacation. But the tense stance of each belied the first impression. Schaeffer had known them all since they were young children, and he had never seen them quite this way. They looked tough as nails and remarkably intimidating. _'What was going on?'_

Jeff's voice pulled his attention back again. "Schaeffer, I also have to ask you that anything you see and hear here will never leave this room. Not only as my attorney, but also as my friend. I need your word." Jeff looked at him with a mixture of sadness and the same steely eyed determination that his sons were projecting.

Schaffer felt a trail of fear down his spine. This was a side of the Tracy family that he'd never seen. Oh, he knew Jeff was tough. Between the moon walk and Tracy Enterprises, as well as raising five strong minded sons on his own, the man had an incredible amount of strength. But he'd never seen any of them like this. They were protecting their own somehow, and Schaeffer suddenly realized that he was, for all intents and purposes, alone on the island with them. He hesitated.

The long silence drew out. His world tilted even more. "All right," he finally agreed.

"Thank you." Jeff turned to his sons. "Schaeffer knows that we've been lying to him. He wants to know why, and about what. I'm going to tell him."

Although Schaeffer couldn't see any change in the silent line of young men, Jeff Tracy apparently did. He nodded once to his sons, then reached down and pressed a button under the desk. To Schaeffer's amazement a state of the art hand identification system pad slid out.

"Activating Command and Control Center," Jeff stated as he pressed his hand firmly to it.

Schaeffer was completely lost by this point. He had no clue what was going on. He expected a revelation, but he wasn't sure what this was. Then suddenly he was losing his balance and the room began to move. "What the . . . " he exclaimed as he regained his footing. He watched in amazement as Jeff's study disappeared into the rotating floor, only to be replaced with an unfamiliar array of sophisticated computer equipment.

He glanced again at the boys. Virgil stood with his arms crossed, a tight smile of mirthless satisfaction on his face. Gordon was grinning outright. Both young men wee clearly enjoying his discomfort. Scott, on the other hand, was stone-faced and tightlipped.

It was then that the discomforted attorney noticed the portraits that had replaced the mural on the wall. Five familiar faces attired in the flight suits that everybody around the world was familiar with. Schaeffer raised shocked eyes to meet Jeff's expressionless face as he stood in the middle of the impressive array like a king overseeing his kingdom.

Schaeffer opened his mouth, then shut it again. He looked once more at the portraits, the faces he thought he knew so well now completely out of context. He tore his gaze away once more and returned to look at Jeff again. "And John . . . ?" The one face on the portraits not currently in the room.

In response, Jeff's finger hit one of the multitude of buttons on a panels in front of him. "Base to Thunderbird Five, come in John."

' . . . Thunderbird . . . ' Schaeffer's dazed mind supplied.

A familiar voice answered even as John's image appeared in the oversized monitor on the desk. Schaeffer took in the unfamiliar communications room, and John, attired in an International Rescue ('International Rescue!') flight suit.

"Thunderbird Five – go ahead Base. Hi Dad . . . Whoa!" He broke off, startled, as he saw Schaeffer.

Jeff echoed Virgil's tight smile. "Schaeffer came and accused me of lying to him. He wouldn't accept anything less than the truth, and I wouldn't expect any less of him. It was time to show him what we'd been covering up."

"Hello, John," Schaeffer finally found his voice.

"Hello, Mr. Bradley," John replied politely, although clearly uncomfortable.

"Jeff . . ." Schaeffer began.

Jeff took pity on him. 'Sit down, Schaeffer, before you fall down." As the attorney dropped dazedly into a chair, Jeff looked over at his sons, as he too sat down.

"Lighten up, boys. He's just doing his job."

Virgil looked incredulous. "Dad, he really believed . . .," he began before Jeff cut him off.

"Of course he did. Think about it. How could he not? The evidence is damming and with the three of you lying your fool heads off, what do you expect?"

Virgil threw up his hands and let it go, heading for a chair. Gordon had already sunk onto one of the couches, openly enjoying the older man's surprise.

Scott however, did not sit down. "Are you happy now?" he asked Schaeffer bluntly.

"I don't know what to think," the attorney answered honestly. "Who else knows?"

"Only Anne Marie Watkins." Jeff answered, naming his long time assistant based in the New York flagship office of Tracy Enterprises.

"Anne Marie, of course," Schaeffer said thoughtfully. His brow furrowed suddenly, and with a quick change of subject, he asked, "And how is Alan involved?"

"Alan is in the first stages of training." Stopping suddenly, Jeff looked at Scott in mild irritation. "Sit down, son, and stop looming over Schaeffer."

Scott subsided, and with a grimace, dropped into a chair, still scowling.

"Alan is working on the simulators and occasionally goes along to observe and assist with crowd control."

John spoke up from the vidphone. "He's also spending time with me, learning the communications end."

"And his black eye?"

"Gordon hit him by mistake. He and Alan were trying to get survivors onto Thunderbird Two, usually a danger free operation. One of the survivors panicked, and Alan got caught in the crossfire." Jeff shrugged.

"You don't let him . . ." Schaeffer began before Jeff cut him off abruptly.

"Of course not! He won't be part of the team until he's of age. Then the choice is his. What kind of father do you think I am?" Jeff asked incensed.

"Calm down, Jeff. I didn't mean anything by it," Schaeffer said soothingly.

"You did a few minutes ago," Gordon's voice muttered darkly.

Virgil ignored his brother and commented, "Unfortunately, not everybody sees it that way."

"Well, now you see the problem, don't you?" Scott said harshly.

Oh yeah, Schaeffer saw the problem all right. What a can of worms. He looked at Jeff, who was staring at him knowingly, watching his friend's quick brain process all the new information, and file it in place.

"Oh yes," Schaeffer said grimly. "I see the problem all right. A myriad of problems." This was not the answer he'd expected, and he wasn't at all sure whether it made things better - or worse.


	11. Chapter 11

DECEPTIONS

By Spense

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Christmas morning started out depressingly for Alan. He trailed down with the rest of the Jorgensen family to sit around the Christmas tree and open presents. Tina had insisted, and Alan was too exhausted to argue. He'd been awake most of the night again, and had spent more than an hour in the bathroom once more, sick to his stomach and vomiting everything he'd eaten that day. He gotten good at retching silently. Thank goodness for small favors – nobody had heard him, and he sure didn't want to have to try explaining why he was getting sick all the time – he didn't know himself.

Alan was surprised to see a large pile of packages for himself as the presents from under the tree were handed out. He was even more astonished when he looked at the tags. All were from his family, although the tags were written out in an unfamiliar handwriting. He looked up to see Tina smiling at him.

"Your brother, Gordon, dropped these off for you when he was here. I just got them wrapped."

Alan smiled tentatively back at her, slightly stunned, then looked around him again. It wasn't home, but frankly, it wasn't that much different. Michael Jorgensen, Trevor and Tina's son was helping his 18 month old son Martin open his presents. Alan had met Michael the night before and liked him. He reminded him a lot of Virgil. Michael's wife, Jennifer, was filming. The rest of the family was awash in torn Christmas wrappings and excited examinations and laughter.

He looked again at his pile of presents, and felt the knot in his stomach ease for the first time since this whole nightmare had begun. One link to home. The first present, one from Scott, made him laugh. It was a model kit, one of the type found in any hobby store in the world, of Thunderbird One. Or at least as close the Thunderbird One as anybody really knew, as they only knowledge was based on the hearsay of the people they rescued. It was about as close to the real thing as a bad sketch. Alan snickered.

Michael looked up at it. "Cool! I used to love models when I was your age. Do you like the Thunderbirds?"

Alan just smiled and nodded, not trusting himself not to burst out laughing. It was the first thing he'd found funny in a very long time. And trust Scott to make sure it was Thunderbird One. To his oldest brother, there just weren't any other Thunderbirds worth mentioning.

"Pretty great organization," Trevor commented, before Martin claimed his grandfather's attention.

Alan continued to work through his presents. His family had really outdone themselves this year. There were the really cool presents, like the latest personal stereo system with some amazing custom tweaks that could only have been done by Brains, and other expensive electronics, to the things like the TB One model that only he would understand the inside jokes. His favorite of those was a set of International Rescue comic books and a 'fact book' on the organization from Gordon. Alan had to shut the first comic quickly after only a short glance so as not to burst out laughing, because the machines and his father and brothers were so far off the mark. The 'fact book' was pretty much a work of fiction given that none of the so called 'facts' bore any resemblance whatsoever to the truth. Guess they were doing a pretty good job on keeping the organization secret. Alan knew that these would have definitely appealed to Gordon's off-beat sense of humor, and he really appreciated him sharing it.

Michael indicated at one of the presents from John – a large, oversized volume on the history of space flight. "That looks interesting. I always wanted to learn more about space flight. I may have to borrow that from you later, since I understand that you'll be here long term."

It took a moment for Michael's words to sink in. "What did you say?" He whispered, stunned.

Tina was looking horrified, and Trevor was looking at Michael in annoyance.

Tina broke in hurriedly. "Nothing has really been confirmed yet, Alan, and we weren't going to discuss it until after Christmas, but yes, the court did ask if . . ."

Alan interrupted her, his face sheet white, his brief moment of contentment gone. "I'm not going to get to go home soon?"

"We don't know for sure yet, Alan," Trevor said soothingly, getting up and beginning to fight his way through the piles of torn wrapping paper and boxes towards Alan. The room had gone silent, echoing Alan's shock.

"But the courts have asked you to keep me, right?" Alan had to get this straight.

"Well, yes," Tina admitted.

With that Alan was moving. He'd worked so hard on his self-control, but he couldn't handle this. He didn't want to let Scott down, and he wasn't going to lose it in front of anybody if he had any say in the matter at all.

"Alan!" He heard Trevor calling him in real concern from behind him as he hit for the stairs.

"Way to go, Michael!" Allison's voice floated back to him. Alan didn't hear his response.

Alan barely made his bathroom before he was throwing up. He vomited so violently that he thought his whole stomach was going to come up as well. Then he was sinking down on the cold, hard tile in misery. He wasn't going to get to go home. All of this had been for nothing. Trying to control his anger, trying to be perfect. He retched again, heaving violently as the shock of what he'd just heard on top of everything else came crashing down.

"Oh, Sweetie, I'm sorry," Tina's voice was in his ear as her arms wrapped around him, supporting him as he continued to be brutally sick. The convulsions let up for a moment, and she sank down on the floor with him, gathering him in her arms. "I'm so sorry," she repeated. There wasn't much else to say.

Her arms around him offering comfort weren't the ones he wanted, but he was beyond being able to dissemble or even argue. "I want to go home," he whispered in shock. "I just want my Dad." His stomach convulsed again, and once more, Tina supported him as he vomited ferociously.

The siege over for the moment, she wrapped him in her arms again, protecting him from the chill of the tile and enamel of the bathroom, trying to sooth him.

"Please, I just want to see my Dad," Alan pleaded helplessly, finally beginning to sob. He just couldn't help himself. Tina held him close as he cried into her shoulder. She stroked the back of his head and massaged his neck, trying to ease some of the tension. "Why can't I go home," he begged, just before his stomach rebelled again, this time in dry heaves, as there was nothing left to come up.

After repeating several times, the sieges of sickness finally began to drop off, leaving Alan limp and exhausted, still tearfully asking when he could see his dad. The next thing he knew, he was in bed, and Tina was encouraging him to sleep. That seemed to be as good of an idea as any he'd heard yet. With luck maybe he'd wake up and find everything had just been a really bad dream. And barring that, maybe he'd get even luckier and just not wake up at all.


	12. Chapter 12

DECEPTIONS

By Spense

CHAPTER TWELVE

Tina Jorgensen lay in bed Christmas night, looking out at the winter wonderland. It was snowing once more, laying fresh powder over the already existing inches. She looked up at her husband as he came to join her, shedding his bathrobe and turning out the light.

Smiling. Trevor settled in beside her, and nestled his wife in the hollow of his shoulder, the way they'd started many a night for several years. Both watched the snow quietly in the dark, listening to the house settle as the late night grew deeper.

"Merry Christmas," Trevor said with a slight laugh, kissing her temple lightly.

"Well, if it wasn't exactly a merry day, it was eventful," she sighed. "Did you look in on Alan?"

"Yes, and he's really out," he replied.

"I'm not surprised. I don't think this is the first time he's been sick like that," she said thoughtfully, frowning. Alan had slept most of the remainder of the day, waking only when she had come to give him some dinner. He hadn't wanted to eat, but she was able to get some soup into him before he crashed again. So far, he'd kept it down.

"No," Trevor agreed. "Hence the exhaustion and the weight loss we've both noticed. Stress, no question."

They were both silent. Then into the contemplative moment Trevor said "I know what you're thinking."

Tina had to laugh. "Yes, you probably do."

"I'm going to the CPS office tomorrow and I'm going to have a chat with the judge. This is ridiculous."

"Good," Tina said firmly. "Are you sure you don't want me to go instead?"

"Actually, I'd love you to go, but you're the psychologist, and frankly, I think Alan's going to need you more tomorrow than I will. I can argue in front of a judge just as well as you can."

Tina smiled at that. "Probably better. I'd just get mad. I just don't get how Alan ended up here. That child is about as abused as our own are," she stated firmly. "You only had to look at him with Gordon to see that."

Trevor shrugged. "I agree, but playing the devil's advocate, take a look at the hearing transcripts. They're pretty damning."

"Of course they are," Tina said, irritated. "Sylvia's very good at her job. That's why she does what she does – to get kids out of dangerous situations. She could make a snake believe that it did wrong when it bit somebody about to step on it and kill it!"

Laughing, Trevor agreed. Then he sobered. "But Sylvia's not blind. So where's this information coming from? She's getting something in those investigations that have led her to the Tracy family."

"I know," Tina said thoughtfully. "I'll do some digging tomorrow."

"Great," was Trevor's comment. "And I'll make an appointment with the judge and Sylvia first thing in the morning. I want to get this kid home as soon as possible."

Tina agreed wholeheartedly. All she had to do was remember Alan curled up in her arms on the bathroom floor that morning, pleading with her to let him see his father in between bouts of sickness until he was so exhausted that he could hardly speak. It moved her to tears each time she thought about it. "Good," was all she said.

_**TB TB TB TB TB **_

Scott Tracy couldn't sleep. Not that that was anything new. Actually he never slept that much. But this was different. He couldn't sleep now because he was worried. And when he was worried, he needed to take action. So, at one in the morning, when most people were normally sound asleep, he was sifting through e-mails and computer records and all manner of electronic paper, after hacking once more into the state's child protective services welfare office. With International Rescue's equipment, he could hack into just about anything - no connection was secure when he wanted in.

So here he was, in his sitting room in the wee morning hours on Christmas night, shifting through reams of electronic documents, looking for a clue, just as he been doing for the last two nights. He knew his brothers had been doing the same. But so far, nobody had come up with anything. He was beginning to think that they were right, and he was pretty far off the mark. As worried as he was, he supposed that they could be right, and this was his way of coping. But he didn't think so.

Then doubts would creep in again as he thought about the stress of this past year. All he'd done was react, and that was just not in his programming. He wanted to be proactive. He wanted to plan, then direct the plan. That was why he was so good with Thunderbird One. He could scout, plan, then have everything in place when Thunderbird Two arrived.

Thinking of the 'Birds, he grinned. He hoped Alan liked the model and got a kick out of it. That had been fun.

The thought of Alan sobered him immediately. He'd not been able to plan at all this year when it came to Alan. Actually, that hadn't been all that unusual – just by his nature Alan tended to be the antithesis of predictable. But this year everything seemed to be on a grander scale than usual. All Scott felt like he'd done was react this year.

From the Hood taking over the island and just having to watch and wait from Thunderbird Five, then to opening his mouth and inserting his foot with his words, causing Alan to run away. Oh, now that had been good, Scott thought sarcastically to himself. Then they had always been one step behind him on that one. A reluctant grin tugged at his mouth. His little brother had been pretty good at the cat and mouse game for awhile there too. But when they finally found him, Alan had been seriously ill. Getting him through that had been no picnic either.

They'd finally all recovered from that event when John and Alan had been kidnapped. Scott shuddered. That had been pretty bad. He'd nearly lost control and pummeled one of those idiots to a point where he'd never wake up. Virgil had trusted him, but Gordon hadn't. Gordon had probably been closer to the mark.

He supposed that believing he could find a concrete solution in an abstract problem was his way of coping. And maybe his brothers were correct. But he just couldn't shake the thought that there was something more here. So he continued to stare at the computer, maneuvering patiently through mounds of minutia, hoping to find a needle in a hay stack that might not exist.

And two hours later, he found it.

_**TB TB TB TB TB**_

Jeff Tracy looked at Schaeffer's image in the vidphone at seven in the morning on December 26th. Schaeffer grinned at him. "We're on. The hearing is set with the judge at three pm. That should give you time to get here and for me to get everything together. I've requested all the players be present."

Jeff smiled tightly. "I've got to get some things together, then I'll be on my way. I'll see you in your office at about one thirty. Sooner if I let Scott fly me over."

Schaeffer laughed outright for the first time in days. This was going to be good. He was usually ferocious in a courtroom fight, and he was itching for this one. "So let him!"

"No, not this time."

From the look on his friends face, he could see that Schaeffer understood exactly what he meant. This should work, and when it did, he wanted his youngest son to himself for a while. He needed to make sure he was all right, and to see exactly what kind of aftermath they would be dealing with. Jeff was a realist, and he knew that there would be aftereffects. He'd rather assess, then be able to prepare his other sons as well. Who knew exactly how bad this would be.

"I understand. Well, I'm going to build the strongest case you've ever seen. It won't be hard," Schaeffer grinned evilly. "I'm also going to prepare a press release the likes of which you've never read."

Jeff snorted in amusement. "Have fun. See you in your offices."

"F. A. B.," Schaeffer answered, laughing at the startled look on Jeff's face. "I got a tour, remember?"

Jeff looked sour. "How could I forget?" His sons didn't often get to show off the project that was closest to them, so they had made the most of their interested audience.

_**TB TB TB TB TB**_

Trevor entered the room and looked over at Tina as she sat at the breakfast table drinking coffee. The girls had finished and were long gone on their annual day after Christmas shopping trip. Michael and Jennifer had taken Alan out with them for a walk.

Alan was aimless and seriously depressed this morning. And attempt Tina had made to talk to him had been rebuffed. So she just let him be. It would be good for him to be outside, but she had forbid him going running. She didn't like how pale he still looked. Alan hadn't even seemed to care.

"Well?" She asked.

"You won't believe it. Apparently Jeff Tracy's attorney, Schaeffer Bradley, got the judge out of bed this morning with a direct call to his home. They have new information. Apparently it was powerful enough that not only did he not disbar the man for interrupting him at home, but he also scheduled a hearing with all the CPS workers present." Trevor looked bemused.

Tina was seriously startled. That was unheard of. Especially for the child welfare judge. "Money talks?" she asked tentatively.

Trevor grimaced at her. "You know better than that. If anything, money talking would make Judge Tanner go the other way. No, something's up. I asked if I could be present as I had a petition to make in this case as well. His secretary asked me if I was petitioning to have the charges against Jefferson Tracy dropped, and I said yes. She told me I may as well be present, they could kill two birds with one stone."

Tina looked at him in amazement. "What on earth . . ."

Trevor shrugged. "We'll know this afternoon. The hearing is at three. I'm going now. I want to see what I can come up with."

"Keep me posted."

"Of course."


	13. Chapter 13

DECEPTIONS

By Spense

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The small court room contained all the players in the case of Alan Shepard Tracy except the teenager himself. Jeff and Schaeffer were at one table, and CPS was represented by the four individuals working on the case; Sylvia Wager, Bennett Andres, Carolyn Young and Melinda Mathews. In addition, Trevor Jorgenson was present.

Schaeffer pointed Trevor out to Jeff Tracy. Jeff looked him over carefully, not really sure about what he felt about the man. This was the man his son was living with, his substitute father, so to speak. That right there was enough to set Jeff's teeth on edge. In addition, he was one of the doctors who had examined Alan at the request of the courts. After what John had told him about Alan's reactions, that made Jeff want to hate him even more. But Schaeffer had told him, as had John and Gordon, how well suited the situation at the Jorgenson's was for Alan, and how good they were to him. Jeff just didn't know what to feel.

Feeling the eyes on him, Trevor Jorgenson turned to meet Jeff Tracy's eyes. He nodded to Alan's father. Still hard eyed, Jeff nodded back, the air force steel in him showing. Trevor smiled faintly and looked back towards the bailiff who had just entered the court room. Trevor didn't blame Jeff for his carefully masked hostility at all. He knew how he'd feel if he were in his shoes.

All the individuals rose as the Judge Tanner entered the chambers, then sat as he indicated.

"This had better be good," the judge growled. He was well know to be a judge who did not suffer fools gladly. "So, Mr. Bradley, what's so important that couldn't wait? And you Dr. Jorgenson, why on earth are you petitioning the court to drop the charges?"

Jeff looked over, startled, to Dr. Jorgenson. Trevor met his eyes with a slight smile.

"Mr. Bradley, you start. You called first – at six in the morning. Let's hear it."

Schaeffer stood up. He was in his element. Jeff would have been grinning had the situation not been so serious. His friend was never so alive as when he was in a courtroom about to argue a case. No matter that there was no jury – Schaeffer was just as furious about the whole situation as Jeff was.

"Yes, your honor. We are asking the court to drop the charges of child abuse against Jeff Tracy and his family due to lack of grounds, and conflict of interest from a CPS worker. In addition, we are charging the CPS office with fraud, perjury and slander."

There was a slight gasp from the CPS side of the room.

"Speak English for the rest of us, and spell it out, Mr. Bradley," the judge said, impatient.

"Yes, your honor. We've had several individuals working on this case. One has uncovered a major conflict of interest. The social worker, Melinda Mathews, who investigated the routine call from Alan Tracy's school, and who began the proceedings, is sister to Mr. Will Adams, former lead design engineer of Tracy Aircraft Design. As most are aware, there was a high profile case in which Mr. Adams was fired from his position four years ago for serious design flaws and cost cutting, putting thousands of lives at risk. He was also imprisoned for fraud."

The other three CPS workers looked askance at Melinda, who covered her face.

"In checking CPS's own records, they did not perform the usual mandatory backgrounds checks upon hiring Ms. Mathews three years ago, therefore were unaware of the relationship. Ms. Mathews also did not disclose that relationship. That was their first error. She should never have been sent on this call."

"Secondly, we have copies from CPS's own e-mail system, both too and from Ms. Mathews and her brother. The first is Ms. Mathews just informing her brother about the routine call from Alan's school. It was evident that she thought he would be interested because of the involvement of the Tracy family. This is a breach of confidentiality. Ms. Mathews signed an agreement upon hire to conform with the federal privacy laws. She had no business discussing any of her cases with anybody, much less with somebody with a vested interest. It is apparent that she began the filing of charges after a return e-mail from her brother encouraging her to do so, in which he spelled out his desire for revenge, and a recipe on how to proceed."

He paused for a moment, then lifted a stack of papers. "I have all the information here, your honor, and it is damming. It is all from CPS's own computer systems, which were upgraded two years ago, and will not allow items to be deleted, but rather date stamps them and stores the documents. The system is impervious to added information after the fact as well, as has been proven many times in court, as you are no doubt aware."

"To continue, the trail of e-mails show the correspondence of Ms. Mathews and Mr. Adams, and clearly record that Mr. Adams was the person responsible for the direction of the investigation."

"Melinda!" Sylvia looked at her in shock.

Melinda was crying silently, tears streaming down her face.

"In Ms. Mathews defense," Schaeffer continued, "We do not believe that she has ever done anything like this before, and up until this point has been a competent representative for the state. However, given the gravity of this situation, and the damage done to Alan Tracy and his family, as well as Mr. Jefferson Tracy's reputation, we will be pressing charges to the full extent of the law. Hopefully this will encourage CPS to be more diligent in the future in how it governs its associates and investigative direction."

Judge Tanner listened gravely, then asked for the documents. As he looked through them the whispering started at the tables. Schaeffer and Jeff looked on in grim amusement as the three other CPS workers spoke to each other, shocked, obviously trying to reconcile the situation.

"Before I go on, Dr. Jorgenson, you had also petitioned the court to drop these charges. Had you discovered the same thing?"

Trevor stood up. "No, your honor," he stated. "My wife, Tina, a well respected child psychologist, and I, as foster parents, have determined that no abuse of Alan Tracy has ever taken place. I cannot state that fact emphatically enough. Any abuse has been at the hands of this court and the CPS system itself, which in our opinion has acted inappropriately in this case. Child Protective Services has always been dedicated to acting in the best interests of the child in question, and in this case, returning Alan Tracy to his father is the correct measure. This cannot be stated strongly enough. Further separation could cause serious psychological issues that could carry well into the future. The reports I brought are already in your possession."

"Thank you, Dr. Jorgenson."

Trevor sat down. Feeling Jeff's eyes on him, he looked over once more, this time grinning. Jeff smiled back in amazement. Their attention was directed once again to the judge as he spoke.

"Simply put, I am disgusted. Looking through this evidence I see a damming trail. Mr. Tracy, you and your son have been put through a series of events that should never taken place. All charges are summarily dismissed. Charges as requested by Mr. Bradley will be filed against Ms. Mathews. The court owes you and your family an apology."

Judge Tanner pounded the gavel on the bench. "Case Dismissed."

Jeff stood up. "Judge Tanner?"

"Yes, Mr. Tracy?"

"When may I see my son?"

The judge smiled for the first time that afternoon. "Right away. I would suggest that you accompany Dr. Jorgenson back to his home and collect your son."

Jeff sighed in relief. "Thank you, Sir."

There was one more surprise in store for Jeff Tracy that afternoon. After he had watched Melinda escorted away in handcuffs by a bailiff, he, Schaeffer and Trevor began to discuss arrangements. Sylvia Wagner came up to speak with him.

"Mr. Tracy," she began hesitantly. "I am so sorry. I followed what I believed to be correct information in forming the direction of my investigation," she began.

Jeff smiled with a politeness he didn't feel. He really just wanted to strangle her for not only what her actions had put Alan through, but also for what she had subjected his other sons to.

"And I really believed that your sons were lying during the hearings," she said sadly. "Apparently, you just have a son who manages to get into trouble."

"Correction, Ms. Wagner," Jeff said, "I have five athletic sons who are intelligent, physically active, and willing to push the envelope. Unfortunately, because of that, accidents can and have happened. And those accidents can appear to be something other than what they are when twisted out of context. Please remember that in the future."

He could feel Schaeffer invisible amusement next to him at his doublespeak. He didn't lie per say, but he did put all the censure back on Sylvia.

"I will remember that in the future, Mr. Tracy. Please except my apologies."

"Accepted," Jeff said graciously.

"You should have been an attorney," Schaeffer muttered under his breath.

"Why? And deny you all the fun?" He mouthed back.

Turning to Trevor Jorgenson, he said in anticipation, "Now, lets go get Alan."

**TB TB TB TB TB**

Tina was at home beginning the preparations for dinner when she received the call from Trevor. He gave her a quick sketch of what had happened, and said he was on his way via Tracy helijet to the farm. Tina grinned as he finished talking. This was going to be something she really enjoyed.

She looked over at Alan, sitting on the couch reading. He hadn't been doing very well all day. Well, it was over now. "Alan?"

He looked up inquiringly, if a shade grudgingly. But as usual, he was unfailingly polite. "Yes?"

Tina smiled, like a cat who had a canary. "I have somebody here who would like to talk to you," she said, moving over to him, carrying the portable vidphone.

He looked at her quizzically as he took it, then looked at it. His "DAD!" clashed with Jeff's "Alan!"

Alan was at a complete loss for words. He'd been chewing over the fact all day that he might possibly not see his father again for a long time, and been having a hard time dealing with it. Now here he was.

Jeff smiled at his youngest son's look of astonishment. "I'm on my way, Alan. We're coming by helijet, and should be there in about twenty minutes. Get your things packed. We're going home!"

Alan found his voice and whooped. "What happened? What changed? Are any of the guys with you?"

Jeff laughed. "Later with the questions, Alan. We'll have lots of time. Get your things together. I've missed you son. I can't wait to see you."

"I've missed you too Dad," Alan swallowed hard.

"Just a few minutes more. I promise."

Alan just nodded. He couldn't speak.

"See you then," Jeff smiled compassionately as he signed off.

Alan just stared in astonishment at the blank vidphone for a moment until Tina took it from him. "Well," she said laughing at him. "Aren't you going to get your things packed?"

He looked at her blankly for a moment, then gave her a huge grin. "Yeah!" He said, and raced for his room, going up the stairs two at a time.


	14. Epilogue

DECEPTIONS

By Spense

EPILOGUE

Jeff stood on the balcony in the twilight watching his sons splash in the pool. An impromptu game of water volleyball had started with Scott and Alan against Virgil and Gordon. At least that was how it appeared – the sides seemed to change rather fluidly.

A gentle hand on his shoulder made him start, and he turned to see Lady Penelope at this side. She gave him a soft smile, not breaking his mood, and joined him at the railing, watching the noisy, splashing game below.

It had been more than three weeks now since Alan had gotten home. Jeff was just now finally finding the knot in his stomach loosening. It hadn't been an easy three weeks for any of them.

The first night he and Alan had stayed in the New York apartment. Jeff still had to swallow hard as he remembered bringing the helijet into land on snowy field to the south of the Jorgenson house, and from the air seeing Alan tearing out of the back of the house at full speed in order to see his father the moment he'd landed. Jeff had felt the same way, and had hugged his son tightly as soon as he'd shut the engines down and jumped out, just grateful for the change to hold him again.

Jeff felt he had gotten a good feel for where his son was at both mentally and physically that first night. The second night, they were home, and it was a heady evening fully of relief for the whole family. They had made it through the trial intact – anything seemed possible. By the third night, life was settling into a routine again. But the fourth night the true state of affairs became clear when International Rescue had been called out very late.

Upon return, at about three in the morning, Jeff had peeked into Alan's room expecting to see him sound asleep. Instead he'd found him in his bathroom, having been violently ill. He had apparently been there quite awhile.

Jeff had read Tina's reports and had an idea of what was happening, so after getting Alan calmed down, back into bed, and finally asleep, he'd headed into his study and called her. After getting more details from the willing Tina Jorgensen, his next call was to a highly recognized child psychologist in New York. He made an appointment for Alan as soon as they could get there. Jeff knew Alan wouldn't like it, but that was tough. He obviously needed help in dealing with what had happened.

Alan, predictably, had thrown a massive tantrum, but Jeff was not to be swayed. Adding the firm agreement of the united front of all of his brothers, Alan had no choice, and off they'd gone.

To Jeff's immense relief, Alan stopped protesting after the first appointment, and seemed more thoughtful than anything else. He and Alan had stayed in the New York apartment that night, more to give Alan some space to digest his conversation with the psychologist than anything else. But it had given father and son the added benefit of some quiet time to really talk. And they had made the best of it.

They had fallen into a pattern now, with weekly appointments. After three so far, improvement was being seen, and Jeff was enjoying the time with Alan away from the bustle of the island.

The psychologist had encouraged Jeff in this schedule, and had recommended home schooling for at least the first part of the term. After than, when it was deemed appropriate, he could resume attending the day school at the prep school he been attending when all of this had begun. At that point, he would stay with Schaeffer and his family during the week, and with Jeff or one of his brothers during the weekends at the apartment, or home on the island. Eventually, Alan would return to boarding school – probably in the fall, but not until the psychologist had approved it.

Interestingly enough, Alan had put up no arguments, and although well hidden, Jeff could tell he was relieved. The school itself had been in touch with Jeff, and the administration was falling all over itself to be agreeable. In one way Jeff was amused, but in another, he was furious, and the powers that be at the school knew it.

One circumstance that was proving to be beneficial for both father and son was the time spent in New York with just the two of them. Alan showed Jeff his hiding place in the library from the previous summer, and some of the things he'd seen. Jeff was struck once again by his son's inventiveness. The time had also yielded some interesting conversations. Once in particular had struck Jeff.

Out of the blue, Alan had asked what would happen to him if something 'happened' to Jeff. Jeff had explained that he had that spelled out in his will. Scott would be Alan's guardian. Jeff thought that would be the end of it and would reassure Alan. He was wrong. Alan had shaken his head, and had clarified his question. He hadn't meant just Jeff, he'd meant the whole family. What would happen then?

Jeff had almost come back with a soothing reassurance that that was unlikely to happen. But then he had remembered last spring on Thunderbird Five when, if it hadn't been for Alan, Fermat and TinTin, none of them would still be around. Alan had a valid point and Jeff needed to address it as such. So Jeff explained that he had arranged for Lady Penelope to be his guardian in just such a situation. Was that acceptable to Alan? It was, and the subject was dropped. However, it stayed with Jeff as a measure of just how insecure Alan was right now.

The psychologist had stressed to Jeff that Alan needed security and order right now while he worked through the series of events and what had happened to him and why. Jeff agreed firmly, although order in their household was hard to come by. But the family was patient – they each had their own fallout to deal with on this one. But everything seemed to be coming together finally. Alan's nightmares were fewer, and he seemed to be more secure.

Then they had had another late night rescue the night before last. Afraid that Alan was going to be sick again, Jeff had gone to Alan's room immediately on his return with more than a little trepidation. He had thought his fears were born out when he was the empty bed, but the bathroom was uninhabited as well.

He'd hurried to the command and control center, yelling for Brains in his worry, only to have the scientist quiet him with a finger to his lips. With a smile, he pointed to one of the couches. There was Alan, sound asleep. Jeff had given a huge sigh of relief.

"Is he alright?" He'd asked softly, the adrenaline flowing out of his system.

Brains chuckled quietly. "Just fine. He, uh, came up here right after you left. He fell asleep not, uh, fifteen minutes later. I thought it best to leave him."

"Thank you. You thought right. He wasn't sick?"

"No. He was, uh, just fine."

Yes, things seemed to be back on a more even keel. His older sons had all been more quiet as well, spending time talking quietly to one another or to him, working things out. But all in all, they were all dealing well with the issues in their own ways.

"They look good, Jeff," came Penny's soft voice out of the darkness.

He put an arm over her shoulder and hugged her lightly. "Yes, Penny, yes they do." As he watched the game progress, he felt the last of the tension in him slip away. Life was quiet again on Tracy Island. At least until the next rescue call came through. Then, as always, the Thunderbirds would be go.


End file.
